<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>restoration by wordcatchers</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738759">restoration</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordcatchers/pseuds/wordcatchers'>wordcatchers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bellatrix Black Lestrange Lives, Blood Bond, Brain Damage, F/F, F/M, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Minor Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy, Nymphadora Tonks Lives, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, reparations</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:16:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>164,392</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738759</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordcatchers/pseuds/wordcatchers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Blood bonds are not unheard of in Wizarding society. What is unheard of is a woman, so consumed with madness, accidentally creating one with a young woman she meant to only torture for information. For Narcissa Malfoy, this places her in a precarious position between her eldest sister and Hermione Granger as they navigate the process of removing the bond entirely. Yet in this uncertain post-war society they share, the removal of an unintended blood bond is not the only dark remnant left to contend with.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger &amp; Bellatrix Black Lestrange, Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>238</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>768</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Man, I never thought I'd be writing HP fanfic again. But, yeah, here I am, making an attempt because I got in it deep with the Black sisters and Hermione. Biggest of kudos to "Glass Silence" for initially leading me down this path, as well as countless other fics piled on top. How are y'all such rad writers? Like, damn. I ruined my sleep schedule in the last month or so reading Bellamione, Cissamione, and a few Andromeda x Hermione fics.</p><p>Anyway! This fic is me giving Narcissa x Hermione a shot, though of course I had to go off the deep end with a multi-chap instead of simply writing a one-shot as I usually do. At first, I wasn't sure if I wanted to include some Bella x Hermione, and I may or may not lightly flirt with it, but they will not be the main pairing. Of important note, I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are my own, as I can only look at my own writing for so long before I want to scream at or throttle it (for example, this has sat in my drafts for a WEEK LMAO, while I edit it and other chapters, so it's high time to just throw it out into the world). 👌</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey,” a familiar voice called out. Hermione glanced up and met Ginny’s eyes, straining a small smile in the younger witch’s direction. It was the interim, that space of time where everything seemed to… <em> stop</em>. Harry had disappeared, Ron had tried to keep her with him in the Great Hall with the rest of his family as they gathered around Fred’s body, inconsolable themselves while trying to console George. She hadn’t expected anyone to come find her, least of all Ginny.</p><p>“Ginny,” she said, standing up, forgetting to push her rolled up robe sleeve back down to cover the cursed writing Bellatrix Lestrange had carved into the inside of her left forearm. The redhead squinted down at the mark, mouth gaping as she closed the small distance left between them. Grabbing Hermione’s arm up before she could hide the evidence of her torture, Ginny met her eyes with a hard, <em> who the fuck did this to you?! </em>look.</p><p>Hermione gulped, one part of herself not wanting to talk it about it at all, the other<em> only </em>wanting to talk about it. She met herself in the middle.</p><p>“Malfoy Manor… I, er.” She chewed on her bottom lip, willing the tears gathering in her eyes to not fall.</p><p>“This is extremely Dark magic, Hermione,” Ginny said, cradling Hermione’s left forearm in her hands, swearing under her breath at the choice of slur used. “We-”</p><p>They both froze as footsteps approached. Coming around a corner of a nearby corridor, Minerva McGonagall’s eyes darted back and forth until she landed on the two Gryffindors. “Miss Granger, Miss Weasley,” the professor said, walking over towards them. “What are you both doing here?”</p><p>“Professor,” Hermione started, trying to tug her arm away from Ginny, “Ginny found me here. I was only taking a breather before…” She trailed off, still attempting to get out of the younger witch’s vice grip on her.</p><p>“Did you know about this, Professor?” Ginny asked, pulling on Hermione’s left wrist. The older witch straightened her spectacles on the bridge of her nose and peered down at the blotchy red scars that formed the word<em> mudblood</em>. Without a word, she took her wand out and performed what Hermione surmised were diagnostic spells on the cursed mark, and after the fifth, she felt a sharp jolt of pain run from the mark through her entire arm, like a shock of electricity.</p><p>The professor grimaced, apologised, and said, “It’s certainly Dark magic. Miss Granger; please come with me for a moment if you will.”</p><p><em> If you will</em>, but Hermione knew she had no choice. Professor McGonagall took her by the right hand and distanced themselves from the youngest Weasley. She was led into another abandoned classroom, and she was in the midst of wondering just how many there were in the castle (did they spawn when needed?) that she started as she was drawn into a warm, strong embrace.</p><p>“Miss Granger, what happened, my dear?” her professor asked into the crown of her head, her voice thick with the Scottish brogue she was typically adept at concealing. Hermione hated this. She hated how this lull in action pushed her mind back to the manor, back to the gleeful manner in which Bellatrix relentlessly performed several upon several<em> crucios </em>on her before pinning her to the ground and marking her with that damnable blade. She hated that she couldn’t stop the first sob from racking through her.</p><p>She was Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, rightful Gryffindor, and she’d reached her limit of distraction and denial.</p><p>Not sure how long she spent in Professor McGonagall’s comforting hold, she eventually started hearing and comprehending the older witch’s words, all trying to calm and console her student. In another minute, Hermione sniffled and relaxed in the professor’s arms, getting her breathing under control. When she pulled away from the hug, she didn’t apologise; she knew they were futile words.</p><p>Instead, she wrapped her rambling words up and said, succinctly, “Bellatrix Lestrange happened, professor.” She took a few more steadying breaths and retold the events leading up to and at Malfoy Manor, the words falling out of her mouth like the start of a healing salve. To simply<em> talk </em>about it… She heaved a sigh after she finished, ending with their stay at Shell Cottage with Bill and Fleur, sticking with the facts her professor needed to know.</p><p>To look slightly upwards into Minerva McGonagall’s face now was a sight she’d never expected: nostrils flaring, jaw set in a hard, terse line, eyes flashing with pure fury… this was nothing like she’d seen before. Of course, the professor was known for her no-nonsense, stricter approach and demeanor, but she never lashed out at her students like Snape had, never delighted in demeaning or taking her rage out on anyone. But at this moment, she looked as if she wanted to kill someone.</p><p>“I would personally rid the world of Bellatrix Lestrange if-” she paused, groaning slightly. “Miss Granger, how much do you know of Dark magic?”</p><p>Hermione licked her lips. “Not terribly much, professor. Only what was taught in Defence, and I never had the interest to try and find anything on that particular branch of magic in the library. But this mark, this… <em> scar</em>, I know that knife was cursed somehow.”</p><p>Sharply breathing out through her nose, the professor rested a hand on Hermione’s right shoulder, squeezing gingerly. “Madame Lestrange knows far more than most about Dark magic, but my diagnostics shed some… unfortunate light on this particular curse. If you… if you wish to have it removed, she cannot die today. Or at least before she can reverse its effects, which, with time, could be far-reaching.”</p><p>Gasping, Hermione bit back another sob and backed into a desk, covering her mouth. She couldn’t- she<em> couldn’t </em>risk others' lives only for the sake of removing the cursed scar. Shaking her head, Hermione told Professor McGonagall the same.</p><p>“Miss Granger, if done swiftly, no one else will suffer at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange. We only need corner, incarcerate, and render her unconscious… <em> incapacitated </em>while she is moved to a secure location.” </p><p>Her heaving chest slowed, and Hermione slumped against the desk.</p><p>“She’ll never agree to remove her own… handiwork,” she replied, wincing at the term.</p><p>The professor walked to her and lifted her face up by fingers placed under her chin. “Not at first, perhaps, and while we Order members will never resort to Death Eater methods, we have our ways that we will use if needed. Eventually, she will relent of her own accord. She has to for this reversal to take hold.” McGonagall then smiled slightly. “And I must say, Miss Granger, I once taught this woman. She was, of course, Bellatrix Black back then, but I should say I have quite the memory of her.”</p><p>The way Professor McGonagall’s eyes twinkled with even the slightest bit of<em> hope </em>then fueled Hermione through the rest of the battle, though Harry’s death sent her and countless others near round the bend. But the rage, and remembering the beginnings of a plan they had come up with regarding Bellatrix, kept her going.</p><p>It was as she, Ginny, and Luna dueled Bellatrix Lestrange in the Great Hall, fifty yards from Voldemort, that she and McGonagall shared a look with each other as well as Ginny, Luna, and Mrs. Weasley. Turning together, they caught Bellatrix at the tail end of one of her spells, striking as a single entity, incapacitating and apparating with her unconscious body right in front of the Room of Requirement, Voldemort’s screams echoing in Hermione’s ears for his taken right-hand lieutenant.</p><p>Pacing back and forth three times before the blank wall, as small voices of the professor and Mrs. Weasley discussing the temporary removal of apparation restrictions on themselves within the castle penetrated her hearing, she finally looked up as a double door formed in the wall, and upon opening revealed a rather large room untouched by Fiendfyre. Levitating Bellatrix’s body, Mrs. Weasley led the way into the room, settling the dark witch within a five by five metered holding space, marked by runic signatures on the floor.</p><p>“We need to take her wand,” Ginny said, and though Hermione was loath to go any closer to Bellatrix, she stepped within the unactivated boundaries, grabbing up the wand that the Death Eater had used only shortly before to duel with. It wasn’t Bellatrix’s original wand, merely a borrowed or stolen one, but she felt some vindication in now having possession of both of the older witch’s wands.</p><p>Despite how particularly<em> vile </em>each felt from mere possession by Bellatrix Lestrange.</p><p>With the Death Eater now in custody, barriers activated, and word from Kingsley’s Patronus reaching them that <em> Harry was alive(!) </em>and that he had<em> defeated Voldemort</em>, they performed the final necessary spells before leaving her still unconscious form laid up against a corner of the stone wall. Before shutting the door to the holding area, Hermione glanced around briefly, noting the necessities she had asked for outside of Bellatrix’s main prison: a small walkway around the edges of the room to a private working toilet, bathtub, and sink in addition to a small kitchen and small corner library complete with sitting area. Every meter of what she had access to, protected by the same runic barrier, fortified by Hogwarts' magic itself, that wouldn’t let her leave it.</p><p>If anything, Bellatrix couldn’t say it was on the same level as Azkaban. There was a distinct lack of Dementors and a much larger space to move around in. Yet she knew the woman would certainly have something to say about having even her wandless capability for magic stripped from her whenever she awoke.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“You <b>what</b>?!” Ron yelled, standing to his feet in the Great Hall. Harry had steepled his hands against his mouth, gaze flicking between the five women who had apprehended the madwoman who had killed his godfather. But he was quiet. Hermione could tell he was on the verge of collapse after everything.</p><p>Ginny had noticed first, though, and hopped over the ruined table to pull him into her side, whispering into his ear until he faintly nodded, allowing her to help him up and lead him out of the Great Hall. Hermione knew she’d take care of Harry, let him rest, and explain everything after. If he needed any more, she and the others would be there for him. He deserved to rest.</p><p>For now, she turned to catch Mrs. Weasley slapping her youngest son across the back of his head, loudly calling out his full name. Ron swore, holding himself back there after the blow had landed, but looking the picture of a petulant boy who’d been caught stealing sweets from the kitchen biscuit jar.</p><p>It was only when she spotted Professor McGonagall approaching the timid Malfoys at another nearly decimated table that her heart rate bounced again as if attempting to leap out of her chest. How had she even temporarily forgotten that Narcissa Malfoy was Bellatrix’s<em> sister</em>? She’d been there at the manor, standing some distance away by the fireplace with a vice grip on her son’s- on <em> Draco’s</em>- wrist as Bellatrix had tortured Hermione relentlessly.</p><p>How had she forgotten how those normally cold blue eyes had melted to poorly concealed horror as Bellatrix took to <em>torture</em> and kept continuing, <em> crucio </em>after<em> crucio </em>after bloody<em> crucio</em>? How had she forgotten how the blonde-haired witch’s icy mask had slipped for even such a short amount of time before sliding back into place as Ron and Harry broke out of the cellar and rescued her with Dobby’s help? How had she forgotten, swearing to this day that she’d witnessed it slip again as she came to near full consciousness as Ron apparated her away to Shell Cottage?</p><p>She witnessed the same this early morning, catching Narcissa’s eyes again as McGonagall sat down and spoke with the three Malfoys. While Lucius too easily put on airs, sliding into the absolute slimy Slytherin he always had been, Narcissa’s arms were wrapped around her only son, though she met Hermione’s gaze for a moment. The older witch’s eyes narrowed, and Hermione wondered what type of puzzle she had to appear to the youngest Black sister. Blue eyes traveled down to the cursed scar that was hidden within Hermione’s singed robes, then back up into her sight.</p><p>The mask fell for one moment before she turned back to the deputy headmistress.</p><p>Ron settled next to her after a few more minutes, reaching over and placing his hand atop hers. She flipped hers over and intertwined their fingers, soaking in his warmth as he rested his head on her shoulder.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Hermione,” he said softly, far softer than she thought possible for him. “Y’know how I don’t think sometimes, but Mum’s battered it in me like usual, and it’s not as if she’ll get off scot-free after she reverses what she did to you, right?” He squeezed their hands together tighter and pressed a kiss to the crook of her neck where it sloped into her shoulder.</p><p>She shivered at the intimate contact and squeezed her eyes shut. The kiss they’d shared after Ron had voiced his support of helping the house elves during the battle… the more time passed now, she idly wondered if it’d merely been the heat of the moment. Inwardly shaking her head, she tossed aside her tendency to overthink for the time being and leaned into him, treasuring the simple human contact.</p><p>“You’re right, Ron,” she said. “She’ll get her due, and it’ll start here at Hogwarts. Already has, I’m supposing.” Hermione shrugged. She wasn’t keen on seeing Bellatrix for some time if she could help it.</p><p>She and Ron both looked up as the sound of short heels approached their side of the Great Hall. Unable to completely hide her reaction, Hermione’s eyes widened as the Malfoy matriarch, picture of utmost confidence and poise, strode over to them. Sensing Ron starting to say something, she hurriedly shushed him and put on the faintest of questioning, tight-lipped smiles.</p><p>“Miss Granger,” she said, then turned and greeted Ron as well. “May I borrow a few minutes of your time?”</p><p>This time, she was unable to stop Ron- “Like hell you will!” Suddenly out of his seat, but his hand still intertwined with hers, he was red in the face from explosive anger. If it were possible, she was sure his ears would be steaming from the way he was glaring at Mrs. Malfoy.</p><p>“Ron…” she hissed, getting up as well, removing her hand from his. “Stop being such a blustering rude prat! It won’t kill me to hear what Mrs. Malfoy has to say-”</p><p>“But she-!” Ron gasped out, stumbling over his own tongue, “S-she was<em> there</em>! She stood by... while her, while her<em> bloody mad sister</em><b><em>tortured </em></b><em>you!</em>” He was valiant, she had to give him that. But he wasn’t thinking it through. She could hardly blame him, considering he’d only just lost one of his brothers, but.</p><p>“I’m aware, Ron,” she said, heaving a sigh. She’d have to process it for him, be the logical counterpart to his emotional despite how this was tearing her apart again. “We’re not in the manor, though, and Bellatrix isn’t free. We’re at Hogwarts, and we have support. Mrs. Malfoy,” she turned to address the older witch. “I won’t apologise for Ron, but I will spare a few minutes to discuss whatever is on your mind.”</p><p>Narcissa nodded, clearly ignoring Ron’s outburst, and silently started to walk towards the Entrance Hall. After placating Ron and<em> promising </em>she’d be back in less than ten minutes, she followed Mrs. Malfoy until they were situated in the Chamber of Reception.</p><p>She hadn’t been in this chamber since her first year if she recalled correctly, but she remembered it like it was yesterday. Standing here, excited and nervous all balled up into one jittery emotion, listening intently to Professor McGonagall describe the Hogwarts sorting ceremony and its four houses to all the new first years, wondering which house the Sorting Hat would place her in.</p><p>Now, though, she was left fidgeting with the singed hem of her robe sleeve, moving to lean against the banister as Narcissa Malfoy eyed her appraisingly. The older witch looked surprisingly put together compared to everyone else she’d seen coming out of the battle. She still looked haggard and worn, her hair out of place, but she’d clearly taken a bit of time to clean her face up and repair some parts of her immaculate robes.</p><p>“I have been told by Minerva that my sister lives,” Narcissa started, hands primly folded together in front of her waistline. “And that she lives because of you, Miss Granger.”</p><p>Barely restraining a huff, Hermione stretched her arms out and pulled back the sleeve from her left arm, showing the still reddened scar Bellatrix had left behind. “She<em> only </em>lives because of this, because the professor said that<em> only </em>she can reverse it and prevent it from further harming me. Trust me, Mrs. Malfoy, it is not out of any goodness in my <em> foolhardy </em> Gryffindor heart that your sister is alive now while her master lies dead.” She couldn’t keep the seething tone from her answer, but Narcissa didn’t flinch at it. Still the ever poised pure-blood, she was. Clearly it was something safe she could fall back on, something she knew like the back of her hand.</p><p>“And how, pray tell, do you all plan to convince my sister to reverse and heal your wound, Miss Granger?” Mrs. Malfoy almost drawled.</p><p>At this, Hermione blanched, then shoved her sleeve back down, curling her hands into fists at her side. “Professor McGonagall hasn’t mentioned the exact details yet, but without Voldemort- <em>oh for Merlin’s sake, he’s </em><b><em>dead</em></b><em>!</em>” she exclaimed at how Narcissa startled at the name. “Without Voldemort, she’s already down a peg. We’ll figure it out.”</p><p>Mrs. Malfoy appeared to study her for a few moments, her gaze sweeping up and down Hermione’s figure, finally meeting her eyes again. The older witch relaxed if only a little, and nodded.</p><p>“She told me as much, but has also requested my… <em> help</em>.”</p><p>“In exchange for what, lighter sentencing for your family?” Hermione grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest defensively, choosing to look towards the crack in the door that led back out into the Entrance Hall.</p><p>“Lucius... cannot avoid another stint in Azkaban, which… I cannot fault the Order and the Ministry for refusing to budge on the matter. He certainly… deserves it.” Hermione jerked her head back up, surprised at the caustic tone Narcissa had used towards her husband. “We’ve also learned that Dementors will be banished from the prison and the island proper. He may receive half a year early release, but no more.</p><p>“As for myself and Draco,” she continued, a vague sort of positive emotion entering her voice, “We will serve reparations for our roles. A large sum of our fortune in Gringotts will be taken and given to war-torn families, specifically mudb-,” she caught herself, wincing, “<em>Muggle-borns </em>and their families. We will, suffice it to say, be rendered rather established middle class or lower than that, not to mention the blight upon our names.”</p><p>Raising her brow, Hermione couldn’t help but ask, “And what of the professor’s request for help? How does that play into reparations?”</p><p>At her question, Mrs. Malfoy’s eyes gleamed - with what emotion, Hermione couldn’t be sure, she had nearly no idea how to read such a poised, icy witch who did her utmost to hide all of herself behind an elaborately fashioned facade. Whatever it was, it sent a shiver down her spine.</p><p>“As I understand it, and you may confirm this with Minerva… I will fulfill her request for help by researching the cursed blade to see exactly what it's done, and I will position myself as a point of contingency between my sister and yourself. An intermediary, that is, during this process.”</p><p>At this, Hermione bristled. Trying to keep the contention out of her voice, she asked, “And how are you to fulfill this without bias? She’s <em> your sister</em>, while I’m merely-” she waved her arms about, trying to land upon the right words, “I’m merely some common <em> mudblood </em> to your family, to pure-blood society.”</p><p>She nearly spat out the last sentence, fighting to keep the trembling out of her voice. How could the professor<em> do </em>this to her? Blood clearly meant<em> everything </em>to Narcissa Malfoy, she’d gleaned as much from the time at the manor to Harry revealing her role in lying about his state of being after Voldemort had shot him down with the killing curse in the forest clearing.</p><p>“My<em> bias </em>benefits all of us, Miss Granger,” Narcissa said softly, and Hermione became acutely aware that the older witch had gotten much closer, invading her personal space now. Hermione forced herself to meet the icy blue eyes, and with a sharp intake of breath, she realised that the mask was slipping again, despite Narcissa’s efforts.</p><p>Gingerly- and Merlin’s beard, she felt like she was in the Twilight Zone*, she’d never thought she could ascribe that word to <em> Narcissa Malfoy </em>- the dark witch touched her left wrist and asked if she could see where her sister had carved into her. Stammering, Hermione couldn’t say no, was about to think this entire battle had been a dream and she’d wake up with Harry and Ron at their last hiding spot, but then Narcissa gently pulled back her singed robe sleeve and cast a spell that she’d hadn’t seen before. The scar then burned blue for a moment, yet felt like ice, soothing the residual pain that had been aching her.</p><p>“That should help alleviate your symptoms for now, Miss Granger.” Narcissa let go of her arm, and the sleeve fell back down, covering the unsightly scar. “What I already know is that my sister used a knife with an ancient Black curse stored within it, one I am sure we all learned of at some point during our childhood at Black Manor, but only Bella put into use. While I wish my current rudimentary knowledge of it could suffice to reverse its effects and remove it so we could be done with this, only the witch or wizard who casts this particular Black curse can do so.”</p><p>“Professor McGonagall informed me as much,” Hermione said, clenching her jaw. She hated this, hated that she had to involve herself with the people who’d had hands in her bloody<em> torture</em>. It didn’t matter that Narcissa had just applied something to help ease the dull pain in the scar, it<em> shouldn’t </em>matter. But she met the Malfoy matriarch’s eyes again and swore she saw the smallest hint of concern.</p><p>But she was sure it wasn’t for her. She wasn’t blood, after all.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>*I am taking creative liberties here, as from what I can tell with quick research, The Twilight Zone (1959) did not air in the UK. I'm not sure what its equivalent might have been, if there was any.</p><p>- - - - -</p><p>My tentative plan is to update this every week or every other week, but that will likely change at some point based on whatever else is happening in life (short version, no absolute promises on like-clockwork updates).</p><p>Oh, and I know the tags say minor Ron/Hermione, but you all will have to put up with some het before Narcissa and Hermione happen.</p><p>Thanks for giving this fic a shot!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>an exchange of owl posts, explanations, reconsiderations, and a beginning.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>back again, and thank you so much for your kudos, comments, etc. on the last chapter! I may not reply to all comments all the time, but I read each one. And I don't think AO3 has implemented a personal PM system yet, so if you ever want to talk, you can PM through my tumblr which is on my profile here. I won't answer anon questions but will direct reply to anyone. :)</p><p>While I'm at it, as I've been editing the next several chapters, I'll leave a couple of notes here:</p><ul>
<li>I haven't read nor seen Cursed Child, so its events don't exist in this story. Delphini who?</li>
<li>I've read what has been said about the Malfoys post-DH, i.e. that Narcissa basically remains a pure-blood supremacist and doesn't approve of Draco's marriage to Astoria because she and Draco raise their son to have a more tolerant view on Muggles, Muggle-borns, etc. Realistically, for canon, this makes sense considering people don't throw out their wrong, yet deeply-held beliefs just because they lose (e.g., former slave owners in the South didn't turn on a dime and change their views after slaves were freed). However, I've pretty much thrown that completely out the window in this fic. In this respect, Narcissa is OOC as I'm altering her views to some degree. [makes vague hand motions in lieu of spilling potential fic spoilers]</li>
</ul></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>An owl tapped on the kitchen window at Grimmauld Place. Hermione looked up from her cereal bowl, brown eyes scrutinizing the thing, not recognising it at all. It was an insistent bugger, though, tapping incessantly. Groaning, for it was<em> far </em>too early to have to deal with such a creature, she pushed the chair away from the table and unlatched the window, letting the owl in. It hooted, nearly nipping at her finger as she wrestled the fancy envelope from its talons.</p><p>“Disgruntled, aren’t you?” she said.</p><p>It’d been two weeks since the Battle of Hogwarts, as they were calling it. Hermione hadn’t been back, not for lack of wanting<em> something </em>to do with her hands, but Professor McGonagall and a few others had absolutely<em> insisted</em>. And she was ever the good student who prided herself on listening to directions, so she had busied herself otherwise: cleaning up a house that had been completely wrecked by Death Eaters after their narrow escape last year, and when not busying herself in that manner or searching through the small Grimmauld library for any texts on Black curse wounds (which turned up absolutely, frustratingly <em>fruitless</em>!), she read as much as possible in preparation for her delayed seventh year and N.E.W.T.s.</p><p>The owl actually <em>did</em> nip her then.</p><p>“Shite!” she exclaimed, going over and grabbing a couple of treats for it. “You’re a right arsehole, you know that?”</p><p>“Well, good morning to you, too, Hermione,” an all too familiar voice rang out from the kitchen doorway. She turned and made an obscene gesture at Harry James Potter, his hair even more a mess than usual as he trod into the room, grabbing a bowl of cereal for himself. Laughing lightly, he settled down at the seat across from hers and tucked in, scanning his own copy of the Daily Prophet.</p><p>“That bloody bird went and put a damper on my own good morning,” she said, bringing the envelope back over to the table as the owl flew off into the distance.</p><p>Harry squinted at the front of the envelope through his glasses, inspecting it. “Haven’t we halted the majority of our post? This doesn't look familiar.”</p><p>She nodded. “Barring the Weasleys, Luna, any of the Professors, Kingsley, Neville, the Tonks, our Prophet and Quibbler subscriptions… I believe that’s all who’s allowed through.” Flipping the envelope over, she didn’t see any of the usual wax seals, but… “Oh. The <em> Malfoys</em>? Who gave them access?”</p><p>Harry snorted and half-choked on a bite of his breakfast. “Blimey, Hermione, you don’t think it has to do with… <em> her</em>, do you?” The pronoun sliced through her, causing a slight shudder. She’d had two weeks to work on coming to terms with all of it, had been torn between feeling glad that she hadn’t been asked to come to see the witch yet and disappointed that she wasn’t being directly involved in the planning surrounding Bellatrix Lestrange. She’d no idea what Professor McGonagall, Narcissa Malfoy, and the Minister had been up to, but at the same time leaned back into the saying<em> no news is good news</em>, even if it reminded her of her parents and why she was <em>here </em>at Grimmauld Place instead of at their Hampstead home with them. But now she clearly was going to receive news, and a shiver passed through her before she gathered her wits. <em>News can also be good.</em></p><p>“Can’t see any other reason for any of them to send post our way,” she said, chewing the inside of her cheek as she sliced the envelope open with a flick of her wand. An elegant bit of stationary parchment unfolded and held itself up so she could read it without having to bend her neck. <em> Well, that’s courteous enough</em>, she supposed.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Miss Granger, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Minerva and Minister Shacklebolt have added my name to the allowed senders for Grimmauld Place, for purposes of our work together. Draco is not included, nor Lucius, though he is in holding for trial at the present and will be sentenced to Azkaban before the month is out.<br/>
</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Moving on, the Minister, Minerva, and myself have seen to Bellatrix over the past two weeks. She is still in a much less than ideal place, but she has… settled, somewhat. As far as that word can go to describe her. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> She has stopped tearing apart her own accommodations and has stopped with her inane screaming, and so I have been tasked with inviting you to visit her within the next week to start work on placating the curse, which will be explained further by meeting with myself and Minerva. I will, of course, sit in with you both as part of my reparations. Minerva and the Minister still believe she can be swayed into willingly removing every trace of her… work, on your forearm. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I cannot yet begin to agree with them, but neither are Slytherins. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Awaiting your return owl,<br/>
</em> <em> Narcissa Malfoy </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>“Awaiting my return owl? And that blasted bird didn’t even<em> stay </em>long enough for me to read the letter! Merlin’s soggy underpants,” she muttered, summoning a piece of parchment along with a quill and inkpot to compose a return letter for Harry’s new owl, Florian, to take back.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Mrs. Malfoy, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Your owl left before I could write my own return letter. It also nipped at my finger. Lovely bird. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> How does this coming Thursday sound? Any time of day is open for me currently. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Sincerely,<br/>
</em> <em> Hermione Granger </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>An hour later, she had her answer. She’d time to read Mrs. Malfoy’s letter several times over, trying to read between the lines of everything the older witch<em> hadn’t </em>said. Clearly, to give her access to their allowed senders' list, the professor and Minister <em>trusted</em> her. Which, though at first seemed utterly ludicrous, it struck Hermione that she didn’t know… all that much about Narcissa Malfoy, at least apart from surface-level details. And she knew better than most that those could be extremely coloured. Worrying at her bottom lip, she read Mrs. Malfoy’s response.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Miss Granger, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Ten-thirty in the morning fits into my schedule. You can Floo to Malfoy Manor if that is amenable, and we can go together to Hogwarts. Let me know if that will work. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Regards,<br/>
</em> <em> Narcissa Malfoy </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> P. S. My apologies on behalf of Rigel. He has always been testy, but our other owls were asleep or at the magical creatures Healer for their yearly physicals. I’ve sent a more agreeable owl this time to accompany yours on her way back. Her name is Cassiopeia. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>She’d… apologised? For the previous owl’s behaviour? Huh. Hermione reached up and tentatively pet the feathers back on Cassiopeia’s head. The bird practically preened at the motion. With a few treats in her belly (and Florian’s) and a return letter sent off agreeing to the time and method of arrival, she set about working with Harry and a few of the Weasleys as they continued their progress on remodeling Grimmauld Place into a house worth living in post-war.</p><p>“Remind us again why you’ve agreed to this, Hermione,” Ginny said as they ate lunch courtesy of Molly Weasley’s kitchen. “Because it <em> can’t </em> be that ineffable friendliness that the Malfoys and Blacks are known <em> so </em> well for.” Hermione matched the grin Ginny shot her across the table in the Grimmauld Place dining area, knowing that her friend was only teasing her, though with a truth she believed. The Blacks and Malfoys weren’t known to be anything like the Weasleys, despite all three being pure-blood families. But Narcissa Malfoy was giving her new pause to consider differently, however wrong it felt.</p><p>With a light chuckle, she said, “Oh no, it’s their impeccable, completely untarnished names that have me <em> dying </em>to meet with them.”</p><p>“You both are completely barmy,” Ron said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. He waved his fork in Hermione’s direction. “Try not to actually die, Hermione. We’ve got a date on Friday, remember?”</p><p>“Double-date, Ron,” Harry piped up from next to Ginny, and George offered to be their fifth wheel with a waggle of his eyebrows. Double-date. Of course. Certainly. Hermione said she’d do her best to not meet her demise in a couple days’ time, for what sort of war hero would she be to die immediately<em> after </em>the war, and in such a safe place as Hogwarts?</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Or you know what, maybe she <em> would </em>die. She swore as she stumbled out of the Malfoy Manor fireplace that was connected to the Floo Network a couple of days later, and found herself landing unceremoniously in Narcissa Malfoy’s arms. She heard Mrs. Malfoy coolly clear her throat from above her head, and she pulled away, separating herself from the older witch, dusting off her robes with unsteady hands. Despite everything, despite telling herself to not instantly judge the other woman like she was inclined to do, she <em>was</em> surprised that she hadn’t been dropped like filth but instead held rather gently for the space of a few moments.</p><p>Looking up from her half bent over position as she wiped off soot from the trousers beneath her open robes, she said, “I apologise, Mrs. Malfoy. Ron called out to me just as I entered the Floo and called out ‘Malfoy Manor.’ Honestly, I’m surprised I still wound up in the right place.” </p><p>Mrs. Malfoy pulled a bemused face that Hermione hadn’t ever seen on her before. “One might think Mr. Weasley would know to not disturb someone entering an active Floo.”</p><p>“One might think,” Hermione agreed, lips slightly turned upward in a small smile. She remembered her wand then and pulled it out from its sheath, vanishing away the rest of the soot from her Floo trip to the manor. “However, he’s rather clueless sometimes.”</p><p>“Barring your… eventful journey here, Miss Granger,” Mrs. Malfoy continued with a casual wave of her hand, “Do you need anything before we Floo to the Headmaster’s office?” <em> Ever the proper host, </em>she idly thought. Hermione shook her head, not wanting to stay in the manor longer than necessary, and promptly found Narcissa hooking their arms together before instructing her to step into the Floo as she did.</p><p>Stepping into the green fire, Narcissa called out, “Headmaster’s office, Hogwarts!” and they soon found themselves stepping out from another hearth, finding Professor McGonagall where Severus Snape had sat only a few weeks prior. The Transfiguration professor looked up at them over the rim of her glasses.</p><p>“Splendid, you’re both here. Please have a seat and help yourself to some biscuits and tea, please.”</p><p>Hermione settled into the rightmost seat before the Headmaster’s desk and immediately picked a biscuit up, grateful for something to do with her hands and mouth while waiting for… whatever was going to come of this odd arrangement. She had to admit to herself now that this was real, not another nightmare on top of the ones she was already having. Dreamless sleep potions were becoming a near-constant friend so she could sleep through most of the entire night without waking from nightmares, though she skipped a few nights at a time so she hopefully wouldn’t become dependent.</p><p>She looked up at the sound of a teacup settling on the large desk, meeting the professor’s warm emerald eyes. Swallowing thickly, she readjusted herself on the chair and crossed her legs before glancing over at Mrs. Malfoy.</p><p>“So… how exactly are we going about this?” she asked, breaking the silence.</p><p>Mrs. Malfoy cleared her throat. “Essentially, Miss Granger, it will involve three things: time, patience, and wearing my eldest sister down. The key is, that as connected as <em> you </em>are to<em> her </em>through that word she carved into you, she is likewise to you. The curse is something of a blood bond from our… most <em> ancient </em> and <em> noble </em> House of Black.” The words ancient and noble dripped off her tongue like they were a poison she was trying to rid herself of.</p><p>At Hermione’s sharp intake of breath, Professor McGonagall laid a hand on her uninjured forearm, applying slight pressure through the cloth with her fingers. “Miss Granger, what Mrs. Malfoy means-”</p><p>“Minerva, as I’ve said before- if you will, please call me Narcissa,” the witch next to her said.</p><p>“Narcissa, then.” The professor turned back to Hermione. “In Madame Lestrange’s madness of the moment that she did this to you, she failed to remember that while, yes, she may have had the intent to bind you to herself, the cursed blade in question also absorbed some of<em> your </em>blood, and as the other party involved, the blood absorbed by the knife transferred into her veins. Thus…”</p><p>“My blood is <em> inside </em> her?!” Hermione cut in. Eyes wide as saucers, she looked down at her trembling hands, then felt a sick kind of laughter burst from her chest. “She has… she has<em> mud </em>blood inside her! Oh, this is…” she continued laughing in half a panic, “This is too rich, I’m so sorry.</p><p>“But,” she went on, laughter subsiding, though the cadence of her voice betrayed the anxiety bubbling up within her, “This means she should be perfectly willing to reverse it, right? Certainly, she won’t want any trace of my blood in her longer than it already has been. And if we both have to be willing, well, that does it, surely? Go in once and get this all over with?”</p><p>“If only life were so simple, Miss Granger,” Mrs. Malfoy said, drawing her words out slowly and carefully. “But my family’s blood magic has never been as… black and white as you might hope. Though we currently speak of this as a curse, and it very well can be, it was previously used in most cases to strengthen relationships of any sort, such as bringing Houses together.</p><p>“As the initial acclimation period subsides, each party will have a sort of... <em>access</em> to the other’s mind, for lack of better phrasing. Not in the way of Legilimency by any means, you may only see or feel flashes of some emotions- not all, but you will in some way become attuned and drawn to the other. Actively fighting it has only shown ill effects in the past when the intent of the bond was perverted, but Bella is scouring books trying to find a way to successfully break it before the required <a id="return1" name="return1"></a>year period<sup>[<a href="#note1">1</a>]</sup> of building rapprochement is out-”</p><p>“<em>Year</em>??” Hermione nearly shrieked, fingernails digging into the fabric of her trousers, nearly piercing her thighs underneath.</p><p>“The alternative to fulfilling this through the bare minimum of visits, Miss Granger, is that one of you dies first from ill effects, and the other is left with perhaps a month left to live before joining in the same fate. A month that will in no way be comfortable, to say the least, even with St. Mungo's help.”</p><p>Hermione picked at her fingernails for a moment, mulling everything over in her head. “Bellatrix wouldn’t mind it though, would she? She’s lost her master. She wouldn’t mind killing me, then going through that month to rejoin<em> him</em>. Or for that matter, simply offing herself,” and then, remembering again that Bellatrix was Narcissa’s sister, “Pardon my terminology.”</p><p>Narcissa sighed, a resigned look colouring her features. “For now, we have taken every method of self-harm away from my sister as a precaution. And furthermore, this is where more of my reparations come into play, Miss Granger. To the extent that <em>your</em> safety is concerned, I have agreed to enter into an Unbreakable Vow with you. Minerva will be our witness if you are amenable to it.”</p><p>“Is- is there any other way, Professor?” Hermione near rasped, eyes pleading with the older woman behind the desk. She couldn’t… she...</p><p>Minerva steepled her hands underneath her chin and shook her head. “It’s all the Ministry will accept.”</p><p>“Well, I <em> can’t </em> accept it. You...” she directed her attention to Mrs. Malfoy, voice rising in time along with her anxiety increasing, “You don’t deserve to <em> die </em> for your sister if things go wrong. I know I should be <em> happy </em> about this development, I know I should <em> hate </em> you for standing by while she did this to me, but- but I won’t do an <em> Unbreakable Vow </em> over it. There has to be some other way, some lesser magical contract to appease the Ministry that won’t result in any more unnecessary deaths. Too much blood has already <em> been </em>spilled and lost… too many... people…”</p><p>Fred Weasley flashed before her eyes. Followed by Remus Lupin, sacrificing himself for his wife as he took Rodolphus Lestrange with him. Lavender Brown. Severus Snape. Sirius Black and countless others. Curling her fingers, digging her nails into her palms, she didn’t realise she’d started crying a little until she saw a few drops colour her robes a darker shade of vermillion.</p><p>At the realisation, she bolted, down the winding steps, down Merlin knew how many or how few damaged corridors until she found herself in one of the empty, half-functioning girls’ toilets in the castle. She looked at herself in a cracked mirror, seeing how red and blotchy her face was, tear tracks down her cheeks, bottom lip almost bit through. Running a sleeve over her face, she sniffled, trying to compose herself, but how could she go back?</p><p>How could she go back to any semblance of <em>normal</em> now?</p><p>Images of her parents flashed before her eyes, and though she knew when she first modified their memories that <em> nothing </em> would be normal without them back in her life, she hadn’t expected it to get<em> this </em> bad. Without them, nothing would be normal again, that much was clear, and now with this on top of everything else, she <em>couldn't </em>go back and get them, not yet. The word <em> nothing </em> repeated itself like a broken record in her mind as she turned, slumping against the mirror, drifting down until she sat against cool stone flooring.</p><p>Face held in her hands, she felt a soft sob rack through her, and any composure she’d flirted with obtaining was wrenched from her grasp. She didn’t hear the footsteps, didn’t see someone bend down to her level, but started when a pale hand wrapped itself around her kneecap. Blinking away tears, she met surprisingly concerned blue eyes.</p><p>The indifferent mask had fallen off completely. A shuddering breath passed through her as her tears came to a stop.</p><p>“Miss Granger, I… I don’t deserve your kindness. I’m perfectly fine with taking the vow that the Ministry has approved,” Mrs. Malfoy said, her voice soft, rubbing small circles onto Hermione’s knee with her thumb. How did she know that helped with an anxiety attack? The soothing motions?</p><p>Hermione let out a small, watery laugh, getting control of her words again. “It’s not about what you<em> deserve</em>, Mrs. Malfoy. It’s about what I personally <em> cannot </em> accept. It’s ludicrous that the Ministry, after all its corruption, wants to start this new era by going to this <em> extreme</em>, especially when it comes to someone like yourself - Harry… Harry told me about the forest clearing.”</p><p>“Ever the pinnacle of righteousness, you Gryffindors,” the older woman murmured. “I don’t mean that in a poor fashion, by the by,” she quickly added, still rubbing soothing circles into the fabric of her tawny trousers. “But, I should also say, Minerva is sending an urgent owl to the Minister to reconsider, due to your vehement refusal for such an... extreme, as you put it.”</p><p>Hermione breathed a soft sigh of relief, settling her forehead on her knees as Narcissa removed her hand. She nearly startled again when she swore she felt fingers rest at the back of her head, carding through her hair once before she heard the older witch rise to her feet.</p><p>Without thinking, Hermione lifted her head and called out to Mrs. Malfoy.</p><p>“Everything else I said back there… I may have been emotional, Mrs. Malfoy, but I meant every word. I- I don’t hate you. I don’t know why, because I suppose I <em> should</em>, but-”</p><p>A spell pursed her lips together, unable to speak, and she looked at Narcissa quizzically.</p><p>“Hush, Miss Granger. I am quite aware that you Gryffindors wear your hearts on your sleeve and tend to forgive like none other, except perhaps Hufflepuffs.” She gave a small smile, but it looked half a grimace as if it pained her to show such positivity towards other Houses. “Repeat this to no one, but sometimes... I have envied your Houses for that. We Slytherins hold no vast capacity for forgiveness like a Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, and typically we pride ourselves on that. However, I… I thank you for your words. Perhaps in time, I can show myself… worthy of them.”</p><p>With that, the spell on her was released, and she was left sitting in a half-demolished bathroom, staring at an exposed pipe while Narcissa Malfoy’s footsteps echoed into the distance.</p><p>
  <em> What in Merlin’s beard? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “I will go in first, then when you feel a particular tug at your magic, follow.” </em>
</p><p>As Mrs. Malfoy had said, she made to enter the Room of Requirement a week later when she felt a distinctive <em> tug </em> that felt brand new to her magic. Steeling herself, the brunette placed a hand on one of the doors and pulled, heart thumping wildly in her chest despite all of her attempts to calm herself on top of the calming draught she'd taken. Her eyes first met Narcissa’s blues, then as she let the door fall shut behind her, she scanned the room and found Bellatrix Lestrange sitting back in one of the library nook chairs, legs spread in a distinctly unladylike fashion, wearing another set of immaculate, tailored black robes, complete with her traditional corset.</p><p>At the sound of the doors <em> thumping </em> close, Bellatrix's head shot up, a wicked smile spreading across her face; oh, she’d clearly been <em> waiting </em>for this for some time. Hermione visibly shivered and cursed her body for betraying her.</p><p>“Why, hello there, <em> mudblood</em>,” Bellatrix said, her tone some twisted mix of playful and sadistic, nearly black eyes positively gleaming. “<em>My </em>mudblood, as I’ve come to intimately learn over the past few weeks.”</p><p>“<em>Bella</em>,” came the warning intonation from Mrs. Malfoy, who currently stood between the two witches. The elder sister shifted her gaze onto her younger sibling and scoffed. However, she sat up straighter, resting an elbow on her thigh and setting her chin in the palm of a hand.</p><p>Hermione went a few steps closer, standing next to Mrs. Malfoy as Bellatrix’s eyes took her in like a predator surveying its prey. Her scar throbbed, still mostly from pain, but also a new emotion she couldn’t describe. She restrained her reaction to a minuscule wince. Bellatrix positively<em> beamed</em>, but before she said anything, Hermione broke in - pushing past every part of herself that wanted to <em> run </em> - and snapped, “I’m as much yours as you are <em> mine</em>, Lestrange. You’ve got <em> mud </em>blood in you now, or haven’t they told you?”</p><p>Bellatrix grit her teeth, tensing her body. “It’s <em> Black </em> now, muddy, considering my worthless husband’s demise at that werewolf’s hands instantly nullified our sham of a marriage.” She didn’t address the muddy elephant in the room that Hermione had brought up, but Hermione did notice the way Narcissa’s fingers clenched at her thigh through her robes as she stood next to her.</p><p>Hermione took a few more steps forward, curious yet absolutely terrified to test the magic of the runic signatures she and the others had placed around Bellatrix Black’s holding area. When she stood face to face, separated from the dark witch by only a few inches, she felt a barrier pushing back on her. She smiled as Bellatrix moved her hand forward but was stopped by the same invisible barrier.</p><p>She was safe. Physically, at least, unless she or one of the few others who had access to these runes modified them to permit any sort of entry. One of which she was told might include Narcissa Malfoy, if she, Professor McGonagall, or Molly Weasley were present. Though she doubted the latter had set one toe in this room since the battle.</p><p>“What a tease you are, <em> pet</em>,” Bellatrix said, half-whining as she laid the palm of her hand against the barrier separating her from the outside world. “Why don’t you raise these barriers and come sit and visit with your dear <em> blood bond</em>? We <em> are </em> supposed to strengthen our relationship, aren’t we? Cissy?” She directed her attention to Mrs. Malfoy, and Hermione glanced back, wondering how the blue-eyed witch would have looked if they <em> had </em>gone through with the Unbreakable Vow.</p><p>They hadn’t, though, but she swore if she were able, she might have felt Narcissa’s heart beating discordantly in her chest. However, her face betrayed nary an emotion at all.</p><p>“In regular circumstances, yes,” Narcissa answered coolly. “However you know as well as I do, Bella, that these are anything but. As I’ve said before, our best option is to wait out the time until this coming March with weekly visits to placate the bond until we can remove it successfully, without killing either of you or maiming myself.”</p><p>Bellatrix furrowed her brow, and Hermione knew she’d made the right choice by taking a slightly lesser magical contract, one that wouldn’t <em> kill </em>Mrs. Malfoy if acute harm came to Hermione by way of Bellatrix that she didn’t even try to prevent, or the other way around. But it would irrevocably weaken her magic, placing her at the lesser, if albeit the completely fictional, level of what pure-blood supremacists supposed Muggle-borns were at in terms of magical ability. She would be cut off from about half of her magical core, and in some ways that could be considered worse than death for those who utterly depended on theirs and couldn’t imagine adjusting to life with less magical strength.</p><p>However, she and Narcissa had sat down to speak about it in-depth before agreeing, and though it had taken a long walk in the Ministry gardens for the older witch to mull it over, she had come to the conclusion that if worse came to worst, fewer reserves in her magical core were not a fate worse than death.</p><p>
  <em> “After all, the Muggles lead fulfilling lives without any magic at all, don’t they?” she had remarked plainly to Hermione as they walked together. It was then, and at the end of their conversation, that Hermione - sitting next to the older witch on a garden bench a few days prior - started to see that perhaps Mrs. Malfoy did not ascribe to such Muggle-born and Muggle hatred as the rest of the pure-bloods she had grown up and associated with had or still did. She was a curious woman on her own, Narcissa Malfoy.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>Growling, Bellatrix slashed at the invisible barrier and hissed at the pain that shot through her arm. “I won’t - and right now, <em>can't </em>- do anything to physically hurt the girl, you know that, Cissy. I won’t endanger your magic. <em> That </em>is the only reason I’ll play bloody nicely.”</p><p>Words from the previous post-war Order meeting flitted back into her mind: <em> The Black sisters’ weaknesses are each other. </em></p><p>Though she also recalled the middle sibling, Andromeda Tonks, scoffing at the same meeting and saying- all while rolling her eyes, “Right, at least the ones they don’t blast off the family tapestry and disown.” For someone who came from such a family as the Blacks, Andromeda only shared Bellatrix’s overall looks and the slightest airs of aristocracy that she clearly hadn’t wanted to keep, but some things were too difficult to rid oneself of, no matter how hard you tried.</p><p>It had taken a bit of time after the war for Hermione to yet again pick apart enough differences between Bellatrix and Andromeda to not flinch whenever the woman entered Grimmauld Place. Her hair was a much lighter brown, her curls always tamed and soft, her eyes so wonderfully gentle in their understanding gaze, and her jaw slightly rounder than her older sister’s. It also helped tremendously whenever Andromeda wore Muggle clothing.</p><p>Thinking of her now, Andromeda was the only Black sister she <em> wasn’t </em>somehow magically bound or contracted with in some way. She couldn’t suppress a laugh at the thought of bringing it up to her the next time they met.</p><p>“<em>What </em> is so <b> <em>funny</em></b>, mudblood?” Bellatrix’s biting words brought her back to reality, and she shrugged, instinctively backing away from the dark witch.</p><p>“Thinking about your other sister. Andromeda.”</p><p>Bellatrix snarled. “Don’t you <em> dare </em> bring that filthy blood-traitor up! She is <em> no </em>sister of mine, nor her half-blood daughter.”</p><p>“Did you know her daughter had a son? Andromeda’s a grandmother now,” Hermione smiled, particularly pleased at the rise she was getting out of Bellatrix. It felt <em>good</em>.</p><p>The black-haired witch sneered. “I’ve also heard the child’s werewolf father was murdered by my <em> dearly </em> departed husband. At least he could do one good thing before he died.” She cackled, and Hermione fought the trembling that was coming over her. Sure, she and Bellatrix were talking, she wasn’t pinned to the ground or at the mercy of the sheer force behind the older woman’s <em> crucios</em>, and she hadn’t raised her voice to a shriek. But was this any sort of worthwhile progress?</p><p>Mrs. Malfoy seemed to think so, as she accompanied her to the apparition point just beyond the Hogwarts grounds. Lightly touching Hermione’s shoulder, Mrs. Malfoy said, “You… did well today, Miss Granger.” She could see in Narcissa’s eyes how difficult this all had been for her, and the smallest part of Hermione wished she was strong enough to have not needed an intermediary like this. </p><p>She at least knew that Narcissa hadn’t known what blade Bellatrix had used on her while at Malfoy Manor, because it seemed the House of Black had plenty more where Bellatrix’s had come from. She’d been standing too far away to properly see the runic signatures on the hilt of the blade and had admitted so while under Veritaserum that she freely agreed to take during their visit to the Ministry.</p><p>“In a week, I will come to collect you at Grimmauld Place. Mr. Potter has agreed to allow me access to your Floo, so you…” she swallowed, diverting her gaze. “So you won’t have a need to return to the manor.”</p><p>With a light roll of Mrs. Malfoy’s wrist, she side-along apparated with her to an alley just outside of the Leaky Cauldron. In another moment, she was left alone to find Neville Longbottom inside for a spot of lunch.</p><p>She desperately needed a headache draught.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup>1</sup>This period started the moment Bellatrix finished carving the word into Hermione's skin, which I'm placing towards the end of March 1998.<sup>[<a href="#return1">return to text</a>]</sup></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a double-date, a bond discovery, an informative article, a friendly lunch, and our first insight from narcissa malfoy's point-of-view.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Grammarly, every time I paste the chapter text into AO3: LET ME UNDERLINE EVERY BRITISH SPELLING IN RED BECAUSE YOU SAID YOU LIVE IN AMERICA AND USE AMERICAN ENGLISH<br/>Me, @ Grammarly: shUT THE FVUCK UP!!</p><p>Anyway! Thank you for your continued interest in the fic (comments, kudos, subs, bookmarks), and welcome to chapter three! ❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“How did we never know this nook was here?” Ron asked, looking around in wonder. They were sitting on the second floor of The Three Broomsticks, in an alcove cloaked in privacy wards and sporting a private apparition point - they were effectively invisible to everyone but a knowing Madam Rosmerta, and were delivered their food in the Hogwarts fashion. Ginny giggled, her left arm wrapped around Harry as she watched her brother from across the table. </p><p>“Because we never had need to ask about it, and it’s<em> hidden </em>from the rest of The Three Broomsticks, you numpty,” she said, flicking a few peas at her older brother. “Be grateful we don’t have to deal with the press or any hangers-on wanting our autographs. And that Madam Rosmerta knows the importance of <em> discretion</em>.”</p><p>Hermione snorted into her Butterbeer. “And at least we don’t have to worry about that Skeeter woman poking into our business here.” <em> This </em>was how life was supposed to be after the war, she thought, smiling around the piece of chip she bit off as Ron flicked a few peas back at his sister.</p><p>“Double-dates with siblings is weird, isn’t it, Hermione?” Harry said, clinking their mugs together, and then exclaimed, “Only children club!”</p><p>“Hear, hear!” she agreed, glad that Harry had brought it up, because she knew she never would, considering he <em> wasn’t </em>an only child by choice. She wondered if he had ever thought about how he might have had a sibling or two if… well, it was fruitless to dwell on, considering the facts. She took a swig from her Butterbeer and watched as out of the corner of her eye, Ron reached forward with two of his fingers and wiped the foam from the top of her lip.</p><p>He was a lovely man, she had to admit. And his ginger hair <em> was </em> pretty. She backtracked, knowing he’d want it described as handsome instead, if she spoke it aloud. Maybe she could truly fall in love with him, maybe that kiss <em> hadn’t </em>merely been a heat of the moment thing. She wasn’t sure, but she did feel a general warmth when around him. Usually. When he wasn’t being a git.</p><p>She felt an uncomfortable pull on the warmth she was feeling for him and made an odd face as it twisted into something different - for a moment, she flashed back through the events of the day, fearing she’d forgotten to take her potion or messed up the dosage somehow, but… no. Her scar throbbed, her stomach twisted, and she clamped her right hand over the scar through her robes as the warmth concentrated there. It flared into a burn, like her muscles were on fire underneath the scar, and it started spreading through her body until it- well, it suddenly… stopped. She didn’t escape notice from her boyfriend (was that what they were now?) and her other two friends, though.</p><p>“Bugger,” she grumbled, before she had to explain some more of the intricacies of the bond to them over what was <em> supposed </em>to remain a casual, fun date night.</p><p>Later that evening, she made a small sound of protest as Ron tucked her into bed, murmuring about “that absolute batty bitch of a witch.” She giggled, repeating “bitch of a witch” as if it was the most hilarious phrase she’d ever heard, reaching out for him, and he sat down on the bed beside her at Grimmauld Place. The moonlight shone upon his hair, and it looked downright <em> ethereal</em>. She reached up and teased her fingers into it and saw him blush.</p><p>“You need your rest, Hermione,” he said, removing her hand. “And somehow you got slightly tipsy off <em> Butterbeer</em>, or maybe that… bond-” he growled the word out, “had something to do with it, I dunno. I’ll be back in a few days, yeah? Send an owl to McGonagall about this when you're yourself again, she’ll help. I’ll have Harry remind you.” He squeezed her hand and left her to fall into a fitful slumber, waking a few times during the night.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>The return owl came swiftly the next morning.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Miss Granger, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I am afraid there is little we can do to prevent this from occurring, but we can provide small vials of curse relievant potion to ease any bonding pain that Bellatrix may unwittingly inflict on you. From what Narcissa Malfoy has told me, she can react in this way to flashes she receives from your own emotions. However, she cannot hold it over you for more than a few seconds before she winds up deflecting it back upon herself, something of a “reciprocity clause.” This, we believe, is why it ended so suddenly yesterday evening. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Mrs. Malfoy is presently brewing a batch of this potion and will send over several vials for you to store within your robes. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Best regards, </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Interim Headmistress Minerva McGonagall<br/>
</em> <em> Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Interim Headmistress, hm? Hermione smiled and showed the letter to Harry as they reclined in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place. His eyes skirted back and forth over the words, and he nodded as he finished.</p><p>“Good on McGonagall, she’s certain to become Headmistress permanently.” He flicked his wand towards the fireplace and rekindled the flames within. “So, Black can influence you in some… way... if she wants, but not for long before she winds up hurting herself. Blimey, Hermione, I’m torn between saying, ‘That’s bloody terrible,’ and ‘Please use this to your advantage and destroy her well within the limits of the bond.’”</p><p>They shared a smirk, and Hermione slapped Harry on the knee good-naturedly. “You’re impossible, Harry Potter, you know that?”</p><p>“Comes with the name, Hermione,” he said with a shrug before glancing down at his pocket watch as it vibrated. “Er, do you need anything from the Ministry today? I’m nearly late for Auror training, but I can bring anything back tonight.”</p><p>“Nothing I can think of, but I’ll send an owl if anything comes up.”</p><p>And with a quick hug, Harry took the Floo to the Ministry, leaving her to her mug of tea and the soft sounds of Crookshanks padding along in the kitchen. Cupping her mug around her hands, she sipped at the drink and grimaced; she’d let it get cool. With a warm burst of wandless magic from the palms of her hands, she reheated the tea to a suitable temperature and took a few sips, relishing the way it felt like a warm embrace to her taste buds.</p><p>Levitating the Daily Prophet in front of her, she scanned the page two articles: <em> Reconstructing Diagon Alley (Cont’d from pg. 1)</em>, <em> Azkaban Assessment: Safe Without Dementors?</em>, <em> Reparative Restorations</em>- ah, she pursed her lips and brought the paper closer, thankful to see no trace of Rita Skeeter’s name on any of these articles, least of all the one she was particularly interested in.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> For major offenders, such as the Carrow siblings (Amycus and Alecto), Antonin Dolohov, and Fenrir Greyback, all that awaits is swift death by Ministry officials. But what of “lesser offenders,” such as the Malfoys? Sources confirm that Lucius Malfoy, despite serving as a high-ranking Death Eater for Tom Riddle’s cause during the First Wizarding War, will serve seven years at the recently recast Azkaban Prison. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Many have spoken out about this treatment for someone who defected so late into the Second Wizarding War, calling it lenient and a disgrace to the system. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> “What of the lives he has taken, or been an </em>a<em>ccomplice to their deaths by other Death Eaters, or by Riddle himself?” one Amos Diggory said, citing Malfoy’s presence at the murder of his son, Cedric Diggory, during the Tri-Wizard Tournament three years ago. </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> While the law is not in our hands at the Daily Prophet, we empathize with those who are not satisfied with Lucius Malfoy’s sentencing. For the matter of his immediate family, a different story unfolds. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> As a whole, they forfeit a vast majority of their Gringotts fortune, which will go towards various war reparations that center on donations to families of the deceased, focusing on Muggle-borns- as well as searches to bring Muggle-borns and their families who fled the country back home. They will also pay off some costs to rebuild Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, among other donations. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> His wife, Narcissa Malfoy née Black, who never took the Dark Mark, will put her potions mastery and healing expertise to work at St. Mungo’s, sans payment for one year, down from the originally proposed three years due to Harry Potter’s testimony in her favour. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Their sole son, Draco Malfoy, due to his status as a student at Hogwarts during the war, and his defection from Tom Riddle’s forces, </em> <em> will serve as the pure-blood co-head of the Blood Status Reparations Alliance, an organisation that will begin by creating new course curricula for Hogwarts School and the Ministry of Magic. The search for its Muggle-born co-head is on-going, though reports point to Hermione Granger as one of the search’s top candidates. </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>“One of the… what?” She blinked, waving her wand to lower the newspaper back onto the coffee table in front of her, a slight headache coming over her- when had focusing done that? Perhaps it was the lack of proper deep sleep. Her tea now down to its dregs, she wondered for a moment why she hadn’t heard of this organisation yet, but… oh, <em> their restricted post delivery</em>. With a small groan, she made to get up and write to Minister Shacklebolt about the organisation, because surely it had been the brainchild of the Ministry, but was promptly sent back down into her seat as an overzealous owl flashed across her field of vision.</p><p>“Merlin’s bloody pants!” she screamed and heard the tea mug shatter somewhere in front of her. Casting a quick <em> reparo</em>, she glared at the tawny owl that had settled on the coffee table, where her mug <em> should </em>be.</p><p>Sticking out one of its legs, she grabbed the slightly bulkier than normal envelope and flipped it over, finding… <em> oh</em>, the Malfoy wax seal again. Opening it the Muggle way this time, she pulled a miniature chest out along with a primly folded letter. Placing the chest, still miniaturized, on the table, she unfolded the letter and read.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Miss Granger, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> My advance apologies if Leonis is rambunctious in her arrival. She is rather like a Gryffindor, though; perhaps you will enjoy her presence instead. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Attached to this letter is a shrunken chest stocked with potion vials that will serve as an antidote to some of the bond’s unsavory effects whenever they occur. Two-thirds are coloured green, to be used during the daytime, and the other third, coloured blue, are for night usage when you may also need aid in falling back asleep. There is no risk for addiction, but they are not meant solely as a sleeping aid and will cause side effects if only taken for that purpose. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Furthermore, as I know you take the Daily Prophet, allow me to speak on behalf of my son and confirm that you have been selected as </em> the <em> top candidate for Muggle-born co-head of the Blood Status Reparations Alliance (BSRA). Your restrictions on owl post delivery have prevented the Ministry from informing you before you have undoubtedly learned it from that newspaper. If you like, I can arrange a meeting between my son and yourself to discuss the organisation. </em></p>
  <p><em> Best regards,<br/>
</em> <em> Narcissa Malfoy </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Hermione raised her eyes and cocked her head at the sight of the owl, Leonis, still sitting there as if expecting treats. She didn’t have her own owl, but Harry had gotten an eagle owl after defeating Voldemort, although she knew he still dearly missed and mourned for Hedwig. They technically shared Florian, but she still felt badly sometimes taking treats meant for him for visiting owls. She needed to go to the menagerie and purchase more treats soon, so she wouldn’t have to think of herself as stealing.</p><p>But even after giving Leonis a few treats, the owl hooted at her, tilting her head. </p><p>“What, am I supposed to send a return letter?”</p><p>Another hoot.</p><p>“She didn't explicitly ask for one!” she said, barely believing that she was having some inane one-sided conversation with the magical creature. It was as she stared into the long-eared owl’s amber eyes that she remembered that she was conversing with a different sort of pure-blood than the Weasleys.</p><p>“<em>Thank you letters</em>, how could I <em> forget</em>?” she half-gasped, ashamed of herself. She’d always worked so hard as a child to become the picture of courtesy and politeness, though once she saw how blood status affected her when she arrived at Hogwarts, she’d learned that no amount of civility or manners would ever afford her the respect of pure-blood supremacists. And those like the Weasleys, while they appreciated her courtesy, told her she needn’t feel like she had to.</p><p><em> Accio</em>ing a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill, still somewhat flustered from her forgetfulness, she set to work composing a response to Narcissa’s letter.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Mrs. Malfoy, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Thank you for the potion vials, and for including some specifically for night use. I haven’t a need to take one yet, but I will let you know how they help after I take a few. I didn’t know you had a potions mastery, or that you have expertise in healing. I must admit that I'm… I'm glad that Harry testified in your favour- from what I heard, it’s a bit like what Lily did for him. Tom Riddle truly knew nothing of the power of a mother’s love. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> I did see that article in the Prophet, and it doesn’t surprise me. It sounds… intriguing</em><em>, <strike>but I’m not sure if it’s... </strike></em> <em> I will think about it some more. Should I feel fortunate that the Minister himself hasn’t owled Grimmauld Place incessantly about the matter, or come knocking down our door? </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> If anything, this reminds me how fortunate we were to have Percy Weasley suggest we restrict our post after the battle concluded. We never went through all this for the fame or so-called “fan letters.” We may be Gryffindors, but we don’t desire hero worship. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Best regards,<br/>
</em> <em> Hermione Granger </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> P. S. Let me think further on meeting with Draco. I will get back with you on the matter. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Nearly banishing the letter to the rubbish bin because of the slight bit of marking out she’d done, Hermione humphed and decided against it. She was a Gryffindor for a reason. Several reasons, but that was beside the point.</p><p>The rest of the morning went by faster than she expected as she took to further cleaning the house- anything to make use of her hands, all while making some progress with Kreacher. He still, albeit rarely, called her a filthy mudblood at times, resorting to his old habits, but she’d take what she could reasonably get from him. She wondered if Mrs. Malfoy had visited Grimmauld Place much when she was still a Black, if she’d had relatively decent experiences with the house-elf or not. Then she scolded herself because it was clear that Narcissa would have been treated like royalty by Kreacher considering she was a pure-blood, and there <em>was</em> the nearly forgotten fact that before Harry had the house elf’s loyalty after Sirius had died, he’d gone to Narcissa and spilled secrets to her during their fifth year.</p><p>Taking lunch with Luna, Neville, and Ginny at Snitch Sandwiches in the repaired portion of Diagon Alley was a welcome social relief. While she loved Harry as well as Ron whenever he could visit between Auror training and helping with his family (especially George), she’d missed her other friends, the ones she <em> hadn’t </em>spent the better part of most a year with hunting down Horcruxes while surviving in the wilderness. Neville was an easy friend, although in the first couple of weeks after finding out that Bellatrix Black lived, they’d had a few intensely heated discussions until he relented on the basis that she was only alive to eventually heal Hermione.</p><p><em> “I don’t </em> like <em> this any more than you do, Neville,” she’d said as he carefully held her scarred forearm in his hands. She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, a few stray tears tracking down his cheeks.  </em></p><p><em> He wiped the tears from his eyes and nodded. “I know, Hermione. I’m sorry she hurt you, </em> tortured <em> you. Merlin knows how close you were to…” His voice broke, and she knew he was thinking of his parents, driven completely insane by multiple upon multiple castings of the Cruciatus curse. And she remembered with a shiver how she’d started feeling her sanity slip right before Harry and Ron had intervened, how it </em> had <em> broken her in some ways she didn’t speak of if she didn’t have to. She hadn’t the extensive Auror training the Longbottoms had gone through, had experienced an even more mad Bellatrix Lestrange from the fourteen years she’d spent in Azkaban. If they’d taken much longer to reach her...  </em></p><p>
  <em> Swallowing thickly, she’d placed her hand on top of his and squeezed. “I’m all right, Neville. Forever grateful to Ron and Harry for bursting back in with Dobby and rescuing me, but… I’m… all right now. As all right as I can be.” She flashed him one of her reassuring smiles. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I can’t wait to see this mark vanish from your skin,” he’d finally said, grinning back up at her. </em>
</p><p>Luna… she was, she was easily indescribable. As they drank various flavours of milkshakes between them, she stirred her <em> wand </em>in the half-solid mixture and started creating “milk art,” as she called it. Despite the odd behaviours that she now found usual and rather endearing, Hermione was touched as Luna drew sparkling likenesses of their patronuses and made them float about the table they sat at on the bistro’s patio. Her otter looked absolutely gorgeous in strawberry.</p><p>
  <em> “You’re braver than I,” Luna had said, gripping Hermione’s hand at the battle, in the lull between fighting, before they apprehended and transported Bellatrix to the Room of Requirement. “Gryffindor… such a noble house of noble, wonderful people.” Luna had smiled dreamily upwards into her brown eyes, and something about the blonde made her heart thunder, sending her back to nights on the run when she’d found her thoughts drifting to the Ravenclaw girl, a realisation coming to her in that time that she couldn't share with the boys. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She’d chuckled and squeezed Luna’s hand. “You’re pretty… brave, for a Ravenclaw, Luna. Bellatrix… she… did she-” Luna pressed her index finger to Hermione’s lips, shaking her head, still smiling so beautifully. Gods, was she, Hermione Jean Granger, blushing because of <a id="return1" name="return1"></a>Luna Lovegood<sup>[<a href="#note1">1</a>]</sup>?  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No, I was only… roughed up a bit. A few slashes and bruises for participating in the battle at the Department of Ministries and for my father’s work.” Luna’s airy smile that accompanied her words back then had both worried and reassured her. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.” </em>
</p><p>And Ginny, gods, Ginny bleeding Weasley. Hermione watched as the youngest Weasley enchanted a few Holyhead Harpies miniature figurines from her robe pocket and sent them flying about their table, tossing a quaffle back and forth, going through a few formations and plays. Ginny snorted into her milkshake as the quaffle bounced off Hermione’s forehead once, and she couldn’t even be angry about it. Now, if it'd been a bludger...</p><p>
  <em> “You’re mad for agreeing to this, Hermione, bloody mad, and I love you for it. Can’t believe the Hat ever considered putting your extraordinarily brave self into Ravenclaw for even a second.” Ginny had lightly bumped their shoulders together and rested her head on Hermione’s shoulder. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione had laughed and wrapped an arm around the younger witch as they sat at the Weasley kitchen table, a short time after the rest of the family had gone their separate ways. “It was more than a second, Gin, more like half a minute? Not long enough to count as a hatstall, fortunately. At least it didn’t consider me for Slytherin at all. Or Hufflepuff for that matter, though they’re grand folk.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “We got ourselves a good one, didn’t we, boys?” Ginny called out, looking somewhere past Hermione. She turned in her seat and saw Harry and Ron with their broomsticks outside, pausing, looking at the two women inside the Burrow. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Not sure what you’re on about,” Ron had yelled, “but if you’re talking about Hermione, we’d be right nutters to say otherwise!” The red-headed man had beamed at her, and Harry flashed a thumbs up in their direction. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “No one better than our Hermione!” the black-haired man had said. </em>
</p><p>What she’d done to deserve such honest, trustworthy, <em> brilliantly </em>loyal friends, she didn’t know, but she loved each and every one. Completely engrossed with the end to their meal and in their conversations now, she missed the blonde-haired witch gazing fondly at their patio table and at her after exiting Flourish and Blott’s, a small bag of books carried in her left hand.</p><p>When Hermione returned home later that afternoon, she found Leonis sitting on a spare owl perch, hooting happily at her arrival. Hermione stroked the owl’s feathers and fed her a couple more treats before plucking Mrs. Malfoy’s envelope from her talons, sending her back home to Malfoy Manor.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Miss Granger, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> You are most welcome for the potion vials. It is the least I can do to alleviate whatever my sister may intentionally or unintentionally try. Please do let me know how they work for you, any information I can add to my notes, as this is a potion I’ve slightly altered to better work on Black curses. Don’t worry, you aren’t my… what do the Muggles call it? test rodent? for this. I’ve already experimented on Andromeda ages ago. I believe you’ve met her? </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> You are... too kind to liken what I did in that clearing to Lily Potter’s sacrifice. I cannot measure up to such a woman, but thank you for the sentiment regardless. Unlike Lily, I… let too many events pass and did nothing. I- </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>the ink blotched and a couple of lines were hastily scrawled out, rendered unreadable, unable for even spellwork to right-</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Please do consider the position with the BSRA; I’m most certain you would be the perfect fit, if you find it something you wish to contribute to. I know my son and yourself did not have anything akin to a pleasant relationship while in school together, but he… he is trying, just as I am. Of course, as his mother I am biased, but I can see the changes clearer by the week. It’s for the best that we do our utmost to change, as I have in no short terms told him. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> The Minister should do well to continue and restrain himself. While Mr. Potter and yourself may not desire “hero worship,” you- you deserve peace. Bellatrix’s presence impedes that for you, but I hope I can be of some aid during the next several months as we placate the bond. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I will call upon you this coming Thursday morning after sending an advance owl. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Warm regards,<br/>
</em> <em> Narcissa Malfoy </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> P. S. Strawberry milkshakes are my favourite, too. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>She stared dumbfounded at the postscript, wondering what Mrs. Malfoy had seen. Certainly, her preference for strawberry milkshakes, but Merlin, she knew she had behaved herself most casually when with those three. Realistically, she was aware that she’d only been acting her age, but a small part of herself wondered if Mrs. Malfoy had seen them acting stupidly. <em> Acting your ages</em>, she reminded herself. <em> Nothing wrong with that. </em>And she’d only remarked on the milkshake, finding something… in common with Hermione? She compartmentalised it and decided to return to the thought sometime in the future. Perhaps.</p><p>When Harry came home from his Auror training for the day, she could only bring herself to tell him the essentials of Mrs. Malfoy’s letters to her. She was beyond grateful that she had an entire lunch’s worth of stories to also regale him with, and he had more than enough stories from training to keep silence at bay.</p><p>The blotched out lines from Mrs. Malfoy’s letter crept into her dreams, and she saw the woman standing by again as Bellatrix tortured her, tossing and turning in her sleep as she forewent the aid of sleep aid potions for the night. But this time, she strained her eyes in the nightmare, looking closer, and swore she saw not only horror, but unshed tears pooling in those blue eyes like melting ice. But that hadn't happened. She didn't remember it. But-</p><p>
  <em> What was going on in your mind back then, Narcissa Malfoy? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy Manor was a nuisance and one of the largest thorns in Narcissa’s side. It was Saturday, a day off from St. Mungo's, and she had gone out to Diagon Alley to get away from it and its furniture-filled yet empty rooms. Taking to playing the Wizarding Wireless Network, casting on it so that it played in several different rooms simultaneously, had eased the deafening silence surrounding her now that Draco had moved out, but it didn’t take the memories away. The house-elves could clean every spot in the manor, but it didn’t change what had transpired in the building.</p><p>She cast an invisibility spell on the parlour room where Hermione Granger had been tortured in after she returned from Diagon, explaining to the house-elves that they should forget that the room had ever existed. It had become an impossible weight bearing down upon her back, crushing her the more she interacted with the woman she had used to only know of as “that Granger girl,” or “the filthy mudblood Gryffindor.”</p><p>“That Granger girl” had looked at her with flashes of helplessness, despair, and determination- the latter of which had shaken her to her core as she was left frozen, as if in some horrifying trance, while Bellatrix tortured the young woman. A young woman who she came to realise had only been a girl not too long prior to her torture, a child - much like Draco - who had been thrust into conflict, into a <em> war </em>that she and Lucius and so many others had saddled them with. A war that had started years before they were even a blip in their parents’ minds.</p><p>With the parlour room made invisible, left to collect dust and decay, she’d settled in the Malfoy library and had taken to removing the few books she had purchased from Flourish and Blotts from her bag. They likely held no further aid in removing the blood bond that her <em> idiotic </em>older sister had unwittingly forced upon not only “that Granger girl,” but herself and essentially a handful of other people, considering everyone’s involvement with it now - whether direct or tangential. They were fortunate that the Minister had placed a stranglehold clause upon the Prophet, so unless something went terribly wrong, the wider public would be none the wiser of what was happening between two of the Black sisters and “that Granger girl.”</p><p>But she still had to try everything within her power, everything at Malfoy Manor, and everything at Black Manor to right this ludicrous situation they’d found themselves in. </p><p><em> “Why couldn’t you have simply used a blade that </em> wasn’t <em> cursed, Bella?” </em></p><p>Why couldn’t you have left the girl, the young woman, alone?<em> She couldn’t say that, threw it behind her nearly impenetrable shields of Occlumency, yet still ground her teeth together as Bellatrix accused her of </em> caring <em> for </em>the mudblood<em>, placing that thought and word at the forefront of her mind if Bella successfully broke through. </em></p><p><em> “You’re such a blithering idiot! How </em> dare <em> you accuse me of such a thing. I’m sodding </em> furious <em> that you’ve managed to complicate matters beyond recognition and- and </em>saddled<em> me with the position of babysitting the two of you!” </em></p><p><em> Bellatrix had given her a sickening smile. “Would you rather I have </em>died<em>, Cissy? Hm? Easier to get on with life if dear old Bella had kicked the bucket during the battle, yes?” </em></p><p><em> Her face paling, she’d said, “No, no, </em> no<em>. Merlin, you’ve given me a migraine. I’ll return tomorrow.” For Salazar’s sake, she hated Bella almost as much as she loved her. That woman was a piece of shattered work who'd taken to shattering others as well. She'd left Hogwarts with Bella's word echoing in her mind, a part of her knowing they were true. It </em>would <em>have been easier for her if her eldest sister had died. But that would have left "that Granger girl" with...</em></p><p>Placing the books on an empty shelf in the Malfoy library, she’d told herself she had also bought them because no one else should own or read such Dark literature. Part of her wondered why Flourish and Blott’s had even stocked them, even if they <em> were </em>located in a section of the shop that children and Hogwarts’ students couldn’t access. They weren’t as terrible as what she’d already seen and purchased from Knockturn Alley, but they weren’t Light magic, either. Far from it.</p><p>After casting to mark the location of the new books on the library directory and map, Narcissa apparated into her bedroom, taking no time to slip into more comfortable, silk leisure robes and sit at her desk. Holding her chin in one of her hands, she looked out on the manor gardens without seeing them. Her eyes were not focusing on anything in particular, but instead started to glaze over as she remembered seeing “that Granger girl” with a few of her friends at a bistro located at the top of an offshoot alley from the main Diagon.</p><p>A few stolen moments looking at “the Granger girl” and her friends had stirred something strange within her chest. The last time she’d seen her in Diagon she had… she didn’t like thinking on it now. Some strange part of her wished that either Draco could openly sit with these people someday, while also simultaneously wishing that <em> she </em> could sit with her in such a normal setting instead of what they were <em> actually </em>doing together.</p><p>But she knew that without these visits to Bellatrix, she likely wouldn’t have come to begin to know “the Granger girl” at all. Or it may have taken years. And though she should loath to admit it, an ache had sprouted within her at that notion that she couldn’t quite explain. “The Granger girl” had already shown herself to be a much better woman than she herself was, a spectacular one at that, something she hadn't allowed herself to notice, <em>couldn't </em>allow herself, in the times they had met before Malfoy Manor.</p><p>She remembered the strawberry milkshake that “the Granger girl” had been drinking, and it reminded her of one of her first dates with Lucius. He’d been too proud to lower himself to sharing one with her and had ordered a slice of pie, something more <em> elegant </em> and <em> fit </em>for noble pure-bloods like themselves. She’d nearly forgotten the days of sharing milkshakes with her sisters, primarily Andy, during their Hogwarts’ years.</p><p>Summoning a self-inking quill from an ornate glass jar full of them, she tapped the feather against her lips, that odd, startlingly warm emotion stirring in her chest again.</p><p>
  <em> That Granger girl. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That Granger girl. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Miss Granger, </em>
</p><p>she began the letter.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup>1</sup>My first Hermione femslash ship was Luna/Hermione, brought to you by <a href="https://www.fanfiction.net/s/3973687/1/Crazy-Little-Things">Crazy Little Things</a>, written by dreiser (AO3 version <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/2573990/chapters/5726924">here</a>). I do believe it was one of those fics that helped me on the path of realizing that I'm into other women. This is simply a nod towards that, and also I still ship them.<sup>[<a href="#return1">return to text</a>]</sup></p><p>I gotta be honest you guys, gals, nonbinary pals, I got through writing several chapters of this fic solely from Hermione's POV when suddenly I was like, "u know WHAT I'm going to TRY writing NARCISSA POV because I CAN!" So I've added Narcissa POVs in most chapters now where I hope they make sense. Whether they are in any way good or even decent, I dunno, but a woman can try. Perhaps at some point I will try writing a chapter solely from Narcissa's POV.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hermione is terribly sleep-deprived and that leads to problems and revelations.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>And this, dear readers, is the chapter in which we completely jump off the deep end into the main reason why this fic has the tags "Brain Damage" and "Aftermath of Torture" on it. I spent... way too much time researching the specific thing that's introduced here. I've done the best I can within the confines of free information online, and this is a piece of [fan]fiction, so, I'm just gonna roll with what I've already done. My apologies for inaccuracies.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thursday morning came around simultaneously too slowly and all at once, the previous few days a blur of permanently removing the pixies from Grimmauld Place, ridding the house of<em> another </em>blasted boggart and going further up into the house for cleaning. Eventually, she knew that they couldn’t avoid the fourth floor, and knew Harry and the rest were aware of the same thing, but they didn’t discuss it.</p><p>She'd also had reason to test out a few of Narcissa’s vials to quell the unsavory effects from experiencing flashes of Bellatrix’s emotions every now and then. Not so often the daytime green as time progressed, but the nighttime blue had come in handy. Bellatrix did<em> not </em>like the nightmares either she or Hermione or<em> both </em>of them had.</p><p>
  <em> “Not like I’m a fan of them, either,” she’d grumbled to herself as the emotional and physical pain rushed through her on one of these nights, uncorking the vial with her mouth out of some raw desperation due to the pulsing ache present in her left arm. She’d downed it in one fell swoop, and within the next five minutes had fallen blissfully dead asleep again. </em>
</p><p>However, the previous night she had failed to remember to owl Narcissa for more of the vials, and by the time she awoke in searing pain, it was far too late in the night to send a letter to the older witch. It would be extremely, catastrophically rude, which for some reason she cared about. And while the pain hadn’t lasted that long, unless Bellatrix was feeling particularly masochistic, she continued having nightmares mixed in with a dull ache in her left forearm that flared to life just as she was trying to take her last available dreamless sleep potion- she dropped it, and in her distraught state failed to cast<em> reparo </em>before the efficacy was completely lost.</p><p>So now it was ten minutes prior to ten-thirty in the morning, and the flames in the drawing room fireplace burned bright green and taller than ever. Hermione, lying back on the tattered sofa that they still hadn’t replaced, rubbed at bleary, sleep-deprived eyes as Narcissa Malfoy stepped out. Turning her head, she watched as Mrs. Malfoy vanished leftover soot from her immaculate sage green robes, then sat up on the sofa as they made eye contact, to Crookshanks' immense displeasure.</p><p>The half-Kneazle made a disgruntled, loud meow before leaping off her chest and traipsing off further into the house. She shrugged and was stretching her arms high above her head when Mrs. Malfoy caught her attention as she asked, “Did you get <em> any </em> rest last night, Miss Granger?”</p><p>Grinning lopsidedly from the sleep deprivation, she quipped, “And just what clued you in, Mrs. Malfoy? My laying on the sofa so unrefined, stretching like this, or my eyes? I’d planned to clean myself up before you came, but, well, I may have taken a slight kip.” She rummaged around inside of her robes, ensuring she had her wand, and after excusing herself to visit the loo before leaving, she managed to slip some anti-fatigue potion down her throat so at least Bellatrix wouldn’t be able to so easily see how their bond, and the trauma, had chipped away at her.</p><p>Mrs. Malfoy hadn’t answered her questions, but Hermione could tell the older witch was studying her intently when she came back to the drawing room. She was somehow awfully loud in her silence as Hermione performed a few cursory security spells before leaving the house empty of any wizards or witches.</p><p>“You know, Harry doesn’t get a lot of sleep either some nights. I do... everything I can to help him,” she finally said to break the silence as they stepped out into the empty Headmistress’s office, Narcissa cleaning their robes with a flourish of her wand. “We figure it’ll lessen with time.” She shrugged one of her shoulders, not really caring to have this conversation, but not finding anything else appropriate to talk about. Except how bloody tired she still felt, even if it didn't show with the potion. And gods how she felt volatile as well, though she didn't believe it was due to hormones. <em>Lack of sleep</em> <em>l</em><em>ends oneself to emotional instability</em>, she reminded herself.</p><p>“Do you not have a plan for the opposite scenario?” Mrs. Malfoy dryly asked her as they made their way down the spiral staircase and started the relatively short walk to reach the Room of Requirement. Hermione felt lucky that they had access to the Floo network so close to the room.</p><p>Bristling, Hermione retorted, “It won’t come to that. It can’t, and we won't let it.”</p><p>“Spoken like a true Gryffindor,” Mrs. Malfoy remarked coolly.</p><p>Where in the world had the relatively nicer Narcissa Malfoy gone to? The woman ran hot and cold, and Hermione, for the life of her, couldn’t make sense of the older witch, and for some reason, it made her nervous. Folding her arms across her chest, Hermione walked past a seventh floor wall three times until the double doors to Bellatrix’s holding quarters appeared.</p><p>This time, Bellatrix looked as if she was content to ignore both of them, which Hermione was rather agreeable to. She noted that Bellatrix had several books set on the small table in the library nook so that you could hardly<em> see </em>the table underneath them and had earmarked several pages in each. For the moment, she was thrumming her fingers against the wood, one ankle resting atop the opposite knee, and seemed engrossed in some burgundy hardbound tome.</p><p>It was only when Mrs. Malfoy loudly cleared her throat after a few minutes that Bellatrix looked up at the both of them. Her eyes brightened at the sight of her sister but narrowed and darkened when she looked at Hermione.</p><p>“How is it that the best and worst part of my day can arrive at the same time?” the eldest Black sister lamented, getting up to her feet. “<em>Must </em>you interfere with the little time I’m allowed with my little sister?”</p><p>“The only reason you’re seeing her with me is because she <em> has </em>to be here, Black!” Hermione said, half-expecting angry red sparks to fly from the tip of her wand. Both she and Bellatrix started when Mrs. Malfoy laid a hand on Hermione’s bare arm, her robe sleeves pushed up just past her elbow.</p><p>“Cissy?! Why are you<em> touching </em>the<em> mudblood?? </em>”</p><p>Hermione jerked her arm away from the younger Black sister.</p><p>“Compared to <em>sharing</em> blood with her, it’s nothing, Bella. I was merely trying to subdue her- I can wash later,” Mrs. Malfoy stated flatly, and Hermione felt all the colour drain from her face. She shouldn't- why was this affecting her at all? Bellatrix smirked at her sister, then sneered towards Hermione.</p><p>“Looks like you’ve upset the little mudpet, Cissy,” Bellatrix cooed. “Did you think my sister gave a shit about you, mudblood? She’s told me well enough that this is part of her little ‘reparations’ act that the ruddy Ministry is forcing on her. You’re lucky we didn’t find some way for her to escape from this completely.”</p><p>Merlin, she wished she’d somehow managed to finagle her way out of any sort of magical contract. But Narcissa was bound to keep her<em> and </em>Bellatrix safe from mortal harm to the best of her ability, as well as accompany her on these visits, because “reparations” and the “Minister and Professor McGonagall <em>trust </em>her enough.” It didn’t mean she liked both parties of the contract.</p><p><em>Appearances.</em> The Blacks<em> and </em>the Malfoys were excellent at putting them on. She wanted to kick herself for thinking for even one moment...</p><p>Desperately, she changed the subject, tugging her robe sleeves back down. “What are you reading, Black?”</p><p>Bellatrix scratched the bridge of her nose. “None of your business, mudblood.”</p><p>“Bella,” Mrs. Malfoy said. “Are you coming along at all?”</p><p>“Hm.” Bellatrix walked back over to the small table, picking up the tome she’d been reading from when she and Narcissa came into the room. “If I had access to the Black library, I might be farther along-”</p><p>“You know I can’t take those outside of the manor proper,” Narcissa interjected.</p><p>They were wholly ignoring Hermione.</p><p>Bellatrix waved a hand dismissively. “These are lesser works, but they’ve served well enough to stave off complete boredom-”</p><p>All right, she wasn’t going to take that laying down. “<em>What</em>, Black? Would you prefer your old cell in Azkaban, complete with Dementors? Would that ‘<em>stave off boredom</em>’ better?” Barely restrained fury laced itself within her words, and she threw a hand up, stopping Mrs. Malfoy from touching her oh-so-<em>tainted </em>skin again. She had no idea what would have happened to her if she'd just let someone kill Bellatrix at the battle, but Merlin, sometimes she wished she had.</p><p>The very much still alive Bellatrix only smirked at her. “Two can play this game, muddy. Would you prefer I toss a few more <em> crucios </em> your way once I get my wand back, see how many it takes to break you <em> completely </em> as I did with the Longbottoms?”</p><p>A millisecond of silence, and that's all it took for Hermione to feel all the blood rush to her head- she felt woozy, flashing back to the puzzle pieces of her mind threatening to disconnect completely, felt herself straining to hold on to what had been left of her composure and <em>more</em>-</p><p>“<em>BELLATRIX!</em>” Mrs. Malfoy shrieked, shocking both Hermione and the woman in question. The youngest Black sibling’s chest was heaving, her shoulders shaking, and for a few moments, Hermione was privy to exactly how effective the barriers they’d put up were. Bellatrix, forgetting herself for a moment, tried to go over to her sister, but was blasted back by the invisible barrier, slamming into one of the bookcases. None of the books came crashing down, thanks to an anti-fall spell Hermione had placed on them, but that didn’t save Bellatrix from pain.</p><p>“Minerva will not hear of you speaking to Miss Granger in this way; it is wholly unbecoming of her generosity. Also, she would want me to inform you that it is only thanks to Mr. Potter that I am even<em> here </em>instead of Azkaban or on complete house arrest, Bellatrix,” Narcissa said, roughly pushing her fingers back through her loose hair. “And only thanks to Miss Granger that I am not entered into an Unbreakable Vow as Severus was for Draco. Your idiocy, your <em> madness</em>, is what has the three of us here-”</p><p>Bellatrix patted the dust off her long black skirt and giggled. “My<em> madness</em>, Cissy? Oh, but if it weren’t for the filthy mudblood here, I’d never have used the blade, and we’d never be here together, talking about <em> boredom</em>.”</p><p>Gathering herself because she <em>couldn't </em>fall apart again in front of Bellatrix, Hermione strode forward, leveling her gaze with the dark witch.</p><p>“You still believe that my blood is filthy? That I somehow<em> stole </em>magic? That I have<em> no </em>magical ancestry?” she fumed, though her mind sparked into action at the last word. It was something she had considered a bit ever since Professor Slughorn had brought up a wizard from the past that had her last name as part of his, but hadn't given it much serious thought, considering the war. Eyes brightening with mischief, she continued. “Perhaps if we traced back far enough, we might find that I’m a long-lost descendant of a Sacred Twenty-Eight family?” She honestly didn't care if she had any magical ancestry, she was proud of her Muggle heritage, but if it got to Black...</p><p>“Not possible, muddy,” Bellatrix dismissed her like a particularly annoying gnat, but she saw the aggravated twitch of her lips. “Magic dies out with Squib children.”</p><p>“Do you even know what DNA is?” Hermione questioned.</p><p>“DN- what?” This came from Narcissa, suddenly eyeing Hermione curiously.</p><p>Naturally, they’d have no idea, since it was Muggle science, not magic. Regardless, Hermione felt a bit of pride at knowing something the two pure-blooded witches didn’t.</p><p>“Deoxyribonucleic acid, essentially our genetic makeup stored as a molecule in every cell of our bodies. It designates our natural hair colour, eye colour, height, and countless other details that partially make us who we <em> are</em>." Oh, she was feeling more herself now, the potion must be kicking in on its timed release. "I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a gene or two for magical abilities that are passed down, generation through generation, that’s been dismissed or explained away otherwise, because scientists don’t come into contact with wizards or witches.”</p><p>“Muggle speak, Cissy,” Bellatrix said flippantly. “Clearly worthless.”</p><p>Hermione ignored her. “I shouldn’t be surprised that the wizarding world wasn’t aware of this, considering we’re decades if not<em> centuries </em>behind Muggle technological advancements. They have televisions, cell phones which are faster than owling…” She trailed off as she realised she’d lost both of the sisters now. But Mrs. Malfoy… oh, she had a thoroughly inquisitive look to her eyes that Hermione could just barely make out. The mask had slipped ever so slightly again, and she wasn’t sure if she had meant for it to this time. As soon as she thought it though, she retracted it - the older witch was indiscernible. Clearly she’d been wrong, though she was loath to admit it to even herself, not only because she hated being wrong, but hated how this case of being wrong made her feel so much worse than missing a question on an exam. Like it <em>mattered </em>what Mrs. Malfoy thought of her, instead of merely accepting that she was only doing this as part of her reparations.</p><p>Steeling herself again, she bit out, “It’s also clearly worthless to spend any more of my time here today. I have yet to feel any truly ill effects from not being near you, barring those intermittent flashes that we both have working solutions for, so I’m not sure this... 'visiting’... to placate the bond is even needed.”</p><p>And with a flourish of her dark blue robes, Hermione turned and strode out of the room, not waiting for Mrs. Malfoy to join her at her side. Within less than a minute of walking back towards the Headmistress’s office, though, she felt a hand wrap around her right arm from behind. Surprisingly strong for someone so lithe, she was taken by surprise and walked over between two large statues, then backed up to the wall by Mrs. Malfoy. With a few flicks of the older woman's wand wrist, she felt a few privacy wards placing themselves around their immediate vicinity.</p><p>The look in the older witch’s eyes, which had been hard and cold earlier, melted completely as ice to water in blistering summer heat, and she heard something she never expected to come out of Mrs. Malfoy’s mouth: “I’m sorry.”</p><p>“I- what?” Hermione asked, placing her hand on the one Narcissa still had wrapped around her arm. She discovered that their hands were around the same size, though Mrs. Malfoy was several centimeters taller than her, even without a small heel on. </p><p>Narcissa squeezed her arm once and let go, drawing her arms into herself as if self-hugging. The older woman chewed on her lower lip, glancing both ways as if frightened someone would see them there despite the wards, and despite the school’s closure until autumn term (even for those aiding in rebuilding, none dared come up to the seventh floor alone, warned that it was incredibly unstable and would need a special team to handle it). When she looked back into Hermione’s eyes, Hermione saw something in the pale blue that made her brain think… <em> remorse.</em></p><p>“I <em> cannot </em>show much of any positive regard for you in front of Bellatrix, especially so early on, Miss Granger,” Narcissa said softly. “I have spoken to Minerva at length about how to handle my sister so we<em> all </em>come out of this relatively unscathed, but I- I failed to inform you like I should have. It’s a bit about the long game, which as a Slytherin, I’m accomplished at. Despite her madness, Bella is still rather perceptive. We… had to be, growing up, and more… recently, as well.”</p><p><em>Recently. </em>“You...” she hesitated, rephrasing herself. “I never thought much about it until afterward, what it was like to... to have <em>him</em>... at your home.”</p><p>She saw Mrs. Malfoy swallow hard, blue eyes penetrating her own. After a long moment, the older witch blinked away the moisture gathering at the bottom of her eyelids. Hermione had vaguely felt something nudge at her mind.</p><p>“You’re…” she breathed out, hardly believing it, though it made all the sense in the world. “You’re a Legilimens, aren’t you?”</p><p>A dark chuckle, and Narcissa nodded. “An inborn skill that I've honed over the years.”</p><p><em> Shite. </em>She’d had flashes of the time in Malfoy Manor come up to the forefront of her mind again when Mrs. Malfoy had plainly looked into her eyes. Now she knew what had further upset her.</p><p>“For someone who was so deeply involved in the war, I’m surprised you hardly learned any Occlumency, Miss Granger,” Mrs. Malfoy uttered. “You are fortunate that Bellatrix has next to no patience for the subtle art of Legilimency. It… certainly surprised me as to how easy it was to see your... thoughts, even from the start.”</p><p><em> Back at the manor </em>went unvoiced, but even as someone who knew next to nothing practical of either Occlumency or Legilimency, Hermione could tell that Mrs. Malfoy was thinking back to that night. She had screamed bloody murder in her mind as well as out loud, her fear-laden thoughts so loud in her mind even before Bellatrix had cast the first <em>crucio</em>. It had to have been impossible to tune her out completely while being tortured almost relentlessly.</p><p>“I should have done something, I’m- this can’t be anywhere <em> near </em>easy for...” Narcissa whispered, then suddenly Hermione found herself pulled against the other woman, her head settled just underneath Mrs. Malfoy’s chin. Hermione stood stock still for a moment, then tentatively placed her own arms around Mrs. Malfoy, taking a shuddering breath as the older woman apologised to her again, breath warm against Hermione’s head. She...</p><p>Finally, Hermione found her words.</p><p>“Mrs. Malfoy-”</p><p>“You- you may call me Narcissa if we are not around Bellatrix,” came the voice against the crown of her head.</p><p>She cleared her throat, fingers curling to grip at the older witch’s back, emotions nearly overwhelming her from the sheer emotional whiplash. “O-okay. Narcissa, it’s, it's not your fault. I understand now that you… you had to protect your son. And your husband,” she made to include him almost as an addendum. </p><p>Another dark chuckle. “That does not excuse my complete inaction.”</p><p>“I saw you, you know? When she- when she was<em> doing </em>that, carving that word into my arm. You looked... horrified, at least for a few moments.”</p><p><em> Utterly horrified. </em>As she had recuperated at Shell Cottage, she never forgot it, though she also never told Harry or Ron or anyone else about it. There were times she wondered if Narcissa’s eyes had been what helped her ground herself, hang onto her sanity as it had slowly started slipping towards the end, before the boys and Dobby had rescued her limp, barely conscious form.</p><p>Narcissa pulled away slightly, her arms still around Hermione's as she met her gaze searchingly, but she didn’t feel anything prodding at her mind and memories again.</p><p>“War, well, it... makes us into monsters,” Hermione murmured, almost more to herself than to the older witch, thinking back to her parents and what she had done to them. “You were the only one on the other side, besides your son, who seemed to keep any part of your humanity. From what I saw, at least. Forgive me if I don’t include your husband.”</p><p>A halting hand came up to lightly rest against the side of her head. “My husband was... and is a coward, Hermione. And I... I followed him down that path, out of self-preservation.”</p><p>She noticed the usage of her first name and said nothing, but felt like her chest was fit to burst with some peculiar emotion she couldn’t identify. She also felt a warmth come over her, much like someone was removing a disillusionment charm from her body, but then, in stricken horror, realised that most of that warmth was centered…</p><p>
  <em> Oh, fuck. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No, no, no, no, NO.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>Hermione jerked away from Narcissa and tried to stop it. When, yet again, her mind and body failed her, her whimper turned into a dry sob as she saw the older witch's eyes widening, looking her up and down for the cause of her abrupt reaction until- <em>oh, </em>she’d <em>seen</em>. With her back to the wall, Hermione lowered herself to the floor, wishing she could disappear, or at least that <em> Narcissa Malfoy </em>of all people wasn’t a witness to Hermione Granger, brains of the Golden Trio, <em> wetting herself</em>.</p><p>Nobody but Fleur Delacour-Weasley knew just how severely Bellatrix’s torture methods had affected her. No one, not even Harry and Ron through some miracle, but clearly the universe couldn’t stay on her side here and keep the information to only the French witch, who had given her binding witch’s word to keep it in strict confidence.</p><p>Narcissa’s, “Oh, <em> Hermione</em>,” certainly didn’t help the matter now as her pale brown trousers darkened, though thankfully she finally stopped once she’d sat down for a few seconds, pulling her legs against herself. She sensed the older woman kneeling down to her level and within another moment, the urine was gone from the floor and her clothes, all external evidence of her accident vanished away.</p><p>“May I cast a cleansing spell on you?” Narcissa softly asked as she settled on her knees across from her. Hermione, through her tears, nodded, and she felt her skin cleaned underneath her trousers, knickers, and socks. She covered her face in her hands and apologised profusely, ashamed of herself for forgetting to take the potion Fleur had given her the recipe for, something parents gave to children who had trouble with wetting their beds, ever so slightly modified for her daily adult use. The lack of control from merely missing one dose- she-</p><p>“I- I-” she hiccoughed, flushing fiercely, raising her head but averting her eyes from the other woman, not able to bear looking at her as she sat on the verge of tears she wasn't sure she'd be able to stop. “B-Bellatrix… t-there was… some brain damage, fr-from-”</p><p>She gasped as Narcissa pulled her into another embrace, this time partially tucked into the older witch’s lap as she sobbed. She knew she should, and<em> did</em>, count herself lucky that she hadn’t been rendered completely insane by the<em> crucios </em>that Bellatrix had subjected her to, but her brain hadn’t been left entirely unscathed. She’d done everything to hold her bladder towards the end of the interrogation as Bellatrix carved <em>mudblood </em>into her arm, because on top of everything else, she didn’t want her torturer to see<em> that</em>, but something, something<em> broke</em>, and after she’d been laid down in a guest bed at Shell Cottage, she’d apparently lost control entirely, unable to blame it on <em>sweat</em>, and wet the bed as she drifted in and out of consciousness while Fleur treated her the best she knew how to.</p><p>
  <em>"Ma chérie," the French witch had said to her, "Do you... does this happen often?"</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione, still trying to come back to her senses- it felt like her brain was a puzzle that had nearly been destroyed, attempting to piece itself back together-  wasn't sure what in the world... Fleur? was talking about, but soon felt wet warmth amongst dry and cold fabric clinging to her legs. She'd instantly sat up, wincing through the remnants of pain, and nearly screamed again despite her raw throat, trying and failing to cast a wordless cleansing charm as she started to cry.</em>
</p><p><em>"I'm so sorry, Fleur, oh god, oh </em>god<em>, I've never done this before! I n-never, even as a girl-" but Fleur had rested a hand against her mouth, shushing her, explaining that now that she was awake and knew the truth, she could run a few more diagnostics on her.</em></p><p>
  <em>"Ronald and Harry told me of what happened, ma chérie, though they haven't seen this... no one has. I have not let even Bill in. The Cruciatus curse... and your scarring... I cannot imagine. You have been so strong." Then, smoothing Hermione's damp hair back from her forehead, muttering the first diagnostic spell, she had softly murmured, "Please stay with us, mon trésor."</em>
</p><p><em>She barely registered the last few words, flitting in and out of consciousness for the next two days, always finding Fleur by her side whenever she did wake. </em> <em>Even as she got better in every other way, slowly but surely, she never was able to control her own bladder like she had before.<br/>
</em></p><p><em>"I don't know w-what's </em>wrong<em> with me, Fleur," she'd half-sobbed on her first full day awake. "I c-can't </em>feel <em>it anymore."</em></p><p>“You went before we left Grimmauld Place today, didn’t you?” Narcissa’s inquiring yet gentle voice brought her back to the present. Hermione nodded into Narcissa’s chest, feeling the other witch’s strong heartbeat against her cheek. She froze up for a moment, part of her wanting to remove herself from Narcissa, yell at her that she didn't need anyone's sympathy, but... it seemed Narcissa was asking to try and understand. And a memory of the fear in Narcissa's eyes at Malfoy Manor- she had lost everything in her control when the manor was given to Riddle. She relaxed again in the older witch's arms, too drained at this point to even want to put up a fight.</p><p>“Sometimes,” she started, her voice rough, eyes focused on nothing in the distance, “I c-can’t… finish… entirely, and- and I can’t tell when I <em> need </em>to go until it simply, h-happens. Fleur gave me a potion for it afterward that rights things, after the m-manor, and I have the recipe, but I was so, so ti-tired today, I forgot… forgot to t-take it.”</p><p>Narcissa carded fingers through her hair as she talked, and for a while after she made small shushing noises and provided words of comfort until Hermione moved to extricate herself from the older witch’s hold. Narcissa squeezed her hand as Hermione helped her back to her feet, and after they were both standing again, she wiped away the tears from her face.</p><p>“Have you been to a Healer about this?” Narcissa asked, placing her hand between Hermione's shoulder blades, guiding them back toward the office of the Headmistress once she had dismissed the wards she had placed around them.</p><p>Fidgeting nervously with her fingers, Hermione said, “No, I haven’t. At first… I was so caught up with everything, I didn't have the time. But… now…” She looked away from Narcissa. “It’s<em> embarrassing</em>. And… if Neville’s parents couldn’t be helped, how could I? I didn't end up like them, thank Merlin, but...”</p><p>“Hermione.”</p><p>Fingers tugged on the back of her robes, stilling her. She turned slightly, finally looking into Narcissa’s eyes. She’d seen glimpses of horror, sadness, and fear in them before, but she hadn’t seen such<em> care </em>in them until now. It was as disconcerting as it was comforting.</p><p>“<em>Please </em>don’t be ashamed of yourself for something like this. If anyone should feel… ashamed, remorseful, it should be my sister. But you need to see a trained Healer. They aren’t going to judge you. I…” she took a breath and rested her hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “I could go with you, if you’d like? Fleur… Delacour-Weasley? From the Tri-Wizard Tournament?”</p><p>Hermione nodded.</p><p>Narcissa smiled and continued, “I’m glad that she helped you with a potion and the recipe to make it. If I may be so forward, is it possible for me to look at the recipe and see if anything can be done to improve its potency and longevity?”</p><p>This entire day felt like an out-of-body experience to Hermione, but with a subtle pinch to her wrist underneath her robes, she knew it was all real. Only a little over two months ago, she’d been at the mercy of Bellatrix Lestrange and the sheer force of her desperate torture methods. And now… now she was agreeing to go see a Healer at St. Mungo’s with <em> Narcissa Malfoy</em>, and to hand over a copy of the recipe for her, what she supposed might be called, neurogenic bladder potion. At least that's the conclusion she'd come to after initial research.</p><p>When they arrived back at Grimmauld Place, she silently left Narcissa to grab the recipe. Looking through the list of ingredients and instructions, she raised her wand to the parchment and with a quick swish of it, muttered the doubling charm and held a fresh second copy in her hand.</p><p>She was about to return up to the drawing room where she’d left Narcissa when she stopped, hearing a voice that sounded like Kreacher. Thankful for the Extendable Ears that Fred and George had left laying around from before, she summoned one, levitating it to sit at the crack of the door to the drawing room, and lowered herself to the floor, her curiosity again getting the better of her.</p><p>
  <em> “-is so pleased, so honoured to see Miss Cissy again!” </em>
</p><p>That was the happiest she’d ever heard the elf, even after he’d started on the path of reforming himself of his old Black ways. And<em> of course</em>, why hadn’t she thought of that when she’d left Narcissa on her own? Kreacher always made daily rounds, cleaning here and there, tidying up, and doing whatever else she and Harry had for him.</p><p><em> “I’m no longer a teenager, Kreacher,” </em> came Narcissa’s good-natured tone. <em> “But never the matter, you may call me Miss Cissy, it certainly makes me feel a sight younger. How have Mr. Potter and Miss Granger been to you?” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Kreacher prefers Master Harry to Master Sirius, but Kreacher still misses Master Regulus the most. The mud- Muggle-born is an odd one, Miss Cissy. She wanted to free me, but Master Harry convinced her not to. Kreacher doesn’t want freedom! Kreacher would rather die! Since then, the Muggle-born has relented.” </em>
</p><p>She heard Narcissa<em> giggle</em>. That was new, and Hermione found herself enjoying the sound, however short it lasted. It didn't surprise her that she apparently knew about her efforts with S.P.E.W., considering her son's inclination to say, <em>"My father will hear about this!"</em> Certainly Mrs. Malfoy had been privy to those letters as well.</p><p>
  <em> “It appears everyone has made some progress. I’m glad you’re well, Kreacher. If I may, are you allowed to speak freely of Miss Granger?” </em>
</p><p>She was sure she would have seen the widest smile on the house elf’s face if she also had Extendable Eyes. <em> “Oh, yes! Master Harry told me I have to obey the Muggle-born like she is a Miss or Mistress, and she immediately told me I may speak freely. Though Master Harry’s word goes over hers, and he has recently forbidden me to call her… </em> that <em> word.” </em></p><p>Narcissa hmmed, taking a few seconds, then asked, <em> “Does Miss Granger sleep through most of her nights here, Kreacher? She was… rather exhausted today.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “On nights when she takes her potion for dreamless sleep, she typically does, but she skips three or four nights every week, and on those nights she doesn’t. Not for long.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What happens on those nights, Kreacher?” </em>
</p><p><em> “Oh,” </em> and she could hear the slight quiver to his voice. <em> “Miss Cissy, she wards her room so Master Harry cannot hear when he is home, but Kreacher hears everything, he does. The Muggle-born </em> screams<em>, such an ear-piercing, anguished noise it is, and Kreacher has seen her stumbling out of her room into the toilet, where water runs and she comes out looking hardly better.” </em></p><p>A few moments passed, and then she heard something odd. She wasn’t entirely sure it was what she<em> thought </em>it might be until Kreacher spoke up again. <em> “Miss Cissy...? Miss Cissy, why are you crying? What can Kreacher do to make it better? ...Miss Cissy?” </em></p><p>Hermione removed the Extendable Ear and sat down on the staircase that would lead to where Narcissa was… currently crying… for her? She couldn’t wrap her head properly around the last several weeks. Everything was like a whirlwind that had led her here, waiting a few more minutes so Narcissa could compose herself before she ventured back into the drawing room.</p><p>When she did ascend the steps and enter the room again, Kreacher was back to dusting where he didn’t even need to, and Narcissa was staring quietly into the fireplace from her seat on the sofa. She turned her head towards Hermione when the door to the staircase shut and gave the younger witch a tender smile that definitely reached her rather beautiful blue eyes.</p><p>“I’ve got the duplicate recipe right here, Mrs. Malf- Narcissa,” she said, sitting down next to the older witch. Narcissa scanned the parchment over twice before nodding and tucking it away inside of her robes.</p><p>“Thank you, Miss Granger,” Narcissa said, getting to her feet. Hermione frowned at the return of her formal address and grabbed hold of the other witch’s wrist.</p><p>Blushing slightly under Narcissa’s piercing gaze, she said, “I think... after everything today, you can continue to call me by my given name. It’s only right. Especially since you said I can call you by yours. It's not like you're my professor or I your student.”</p><p>Narcissa chewed on the inside of her cheek, then said, “All right. But we will adhere to formal addresses around Bellatrix. That may never change.”</p><p>“Oh, have some hope, Narcissa,” she joked back, trying to make her smile again. “Perhaps we’ll be taking tea and biscuits together like one grand old family in less than a year’s time.”</p><p>A smile did slightly tug at her lips then, pleasing Hermione greatly, the older witch's eyes shutting for a moment as she shook her head in disbelief. “You are impossible, Miss Gra- Hermione.”</p><p>“Part of the package as a card-holding member of the Golden Trio,” she said brightly, smiling sweetly up at her. She loved seeing this side of the older witch and hated seeing her slip back into placidity as she walked towards and into the fire, calling out “Malfoy Manor!” A part of her felt strangely empty after she was left alone, and she couldn’t wait for Harry to return.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa Malfoy was not known for violent outbursts. She was the collected, calm, and poised Black sister. As a child, she had seen where Bellatrix's outbursts and rebellions had gotten her, and Andy... oh, she had been a much, <em>much </em>milder girl than Bella, fooling their parents, inadvertently giving Narcissa insight on how to hide things from them. But at Hogwarts? There was a reason she'd caught Ted Tonks' eye, pulling pranks and acting out in ways that a noble pure-blooded witch <em>shouldn't</em>. Somehow she'd kept the worst of it from their parents until she'd eloped with the Muggle-born wizard.</p><p>But Narcissa? Always put-together, always statuesque to the wider world around her. Her sisters had seen her the most emotional of anyone until Lucius came along- before their partnership and marriage had taken a turn, but it had been her son, her dear boy, her darling Draco who had rendered her as emotional as emotional can be. She knew tears, she knew unadulterated affection, but for the most part, it had always been of a stilted, awkward sort as she did everything within her power to protect and shield herself from her mother, her aunt, and eventually any outside threat to herself. She swallowed it all down. Until now.</p><p>She had lost control of her voice after Bellatrix brought up the mere <em>idea</em> of torturing Hermione Granger into insanity as she had the Longbottom couple. She had known the both of them, fancied Alice for a while, even kissed her more than a few times, fooling around in secret as teenage girls, but they were never meant to be. She was a pure-blood, but not a wizard, and a <em>Gryffindor </em>on top of it.</p><p>A dangerously harsh flick of her wand flung one of the Malfoy family priceless vases into the roaring fireplace she had emerged from a few minutes ago.</p><p>She wasn't sure if Bellatrix had picked up on <em>why </em>she became so emotional from it. Two-fold reasoning, two-fold secrets.</p><p>Another flourish of her wand and the ornate Malfoy wallpaper ripped from ceiling to floor in several places around her.</p><p>She had let Hermione's reactions to her pretence around Bellatrix <em>get </em>to her. Everything piled up. The young woman made herself endearing without even <em>meaning </em>to. She was a <em>Gryffindor</em>, for Merlin's sake- Narcissa knew that Hermione wasn't endearing herself for some nefarious self-serving purpose. She was, simply put, <em>good</em>. Still, somehow, despite everything, which was a wonder and testament to her strength.</p><p>A jab and slash of her wand, and one of their sofas burst open at every seam, exploding in white feathers that fluttered to the floor around her.</p><p>Everything piled <em>up</em>, and then it rushed over the precipice as she'd witnessed the true extent of Hermione's torture by the hands of her oldest sister.</p><p>As she learned that, apparently, somehow- her sister, brightest witch of her own age, had further perverted the Cruciatus curse into something that <em>could </em>leave physical damage. However much she didn't want to believe that was possible, even for Bellatrix.</p><p>As she <em>looked</em> into the younger woman's eyes and saw something, <em>something </em>that also pointed to some held truth that she couldn't take her parents with her to St. Mungo's, even though Muggles with wizarding children <em>could </em>visit for their Muggle-born children's sake. She had gone no further- how utter darkness came to enshroud that truth, she knew it wasn't for her to pry.</p><p>She fell to her knees on the drawing room floor and her chest felt as if it was on <em>fire</em>, licking away at her lungs until she was gasping for breath, for <em>relief</em>.</p><p>She couldn't magic away the younger witch's trauma, she couldn't reverse anything that Bellatrix had done to her, but she could... could try everything else in her power. She simply wasn't sure if she was doing it for the right reasons, or if only in an attempt to assuage her own guilt. So used to upholding the porcelain facade, sometimes she wondered what was truly her and what was the hardened visor protecting herself. Swallowing thickly, she got to her feet again, wordlessly repairing the damage she had done with her wand. The house elves said naught a word.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ok, so! I didn't originally have any plans for Hermione to have this after-effect from Bella's torture, yet woke up one day while writing this chapter and found it had implanted itself in my brain, refusing to leave. Also, I've only just changed something about it in this chapter, so now I get to go and re-write some parts about it in a couple of later chapters lmao.</p><p>I've kept debating whether or not to add some tag about this specific brain/neurogenic thing and its effect, but wasn't sure what. If y'all have any ideas, feel free to shout 'em at me. Or it can stay without further tagging.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>a visit to the fourth floor of grimmauld place, muggle talk (&amp; more) with ron, new developments with bellatrix, and a meal with two malfoys.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have a long weekend off from work, so here's another chapter because I feel like posting it. :) Thanks for the continued interest and support, y'all!</p>
<p>There is a small heterosexual sex scene in this chapter - I've placed horizontal line rules before and after it if you would prefer to skip over it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The time to start cleaning the fourth floor - where Sirus and Regulus Black's bedrooms were - finally came, and while going through the brothers' possessions that had been left behind, they'd all found pieces of the Marauders and the Black family. Hermione and Ginny had gone through Regulus's things that Kreacher hadn't already taken for himself, upending floorboards and bedsheets after applying <em>scourgify</em> so many times her wand likely wanted to abscond of her completely, if it were only that sentient. Scraps of parchment ranging from flippant school notes to records of Death Eater conversations from the 1970s that had lost their security charms after Regulus's death were stuck together in a pile for temporary storage. Photos of Regulus with his housemates didn't quite interest her, though glimpses of the Slytherin common room were... intriguing. Since she'd accidentally grabbed cat hair instead of Millicent Bulstrode's in second year, she'd only heard about the Slytherin common room from Harry and Ron, and they decidedly were <em>not </em>the best or most detailed storytellers.</p>
<p>"Kind of dank and dark, isn't it?" Ginny said, peering over Hermione's shoulder, "Also <em>very</em> green." A group of Slytherins were lounging around the common room fireplace, some unknown older Slytherin boy, likely a seventh year, was reclining on the chaise lounge as a couple of younger students - one was <em>definitely </em>Regulus, with his resemblance to Sirius - were playing wizard's chess at a nearby table. A couple of older girls - sixth, seventh years? were talking to the lounging boy.</p>
<p>Hermione glanced over her shoulder. "I remember one of the Snatchers telling us - well, Harry in disguise - that there aren't a lot of Muggle-born Slytherins, and Merlin, beyond the obvious, the common room is a turn-off on top of the pure-blood supremacy. I'm," she looked back at the photograph, "beyond happy I wasn't one of those rare Muggle-borns. Gryffindor is so much more... cosy."</p>
<p>"You? In Slytherin?" Ginny guffawed, covering her eyes partially with one of her hands. "Perish the thought, the Hat would've had to been expertly <em>Imperio'd</em>, Hermione."</p>
<p>A breath of soft laughter from the brunette was followed by, "Definitely." She watched the photograph again, observing the figures within it move until- "Wait," she pointed at one in particular, a tall and thin blonde witch, definitely a sixth or seventh year, "Does this look like Narcissa Malfoy- well, still Black at this point- to you, Gin?" Ginny tugged the photograph from her and studied the young woman, who favoured walking behind the student lounging on the chaise, then swatting the back of his head before walking out of frame, much like Mrs. Weasley had done to Ron after the battle had ended and he'd been a prat.</p>
<p>"Merlin's bollocks, if it isn't her younger self, I- I'd bet a few Galleons on it, I would! And that wizard, she seems so familiar with him, but he's definitely not Malfoy's dad, doesn't have his white blond hair." Ginny scrutinised the photo further. "I'm shite at recognising old pure-blood Slytherins, but with that degree of closeness, I'd bet... that's Evan Rosier, her cousin. Here, Hermione," Ginny handed the photograph back to her, "You should ask her yourself sometime. By the way, how's she treating you? I know what Harry said at the trial about her and her son, but-"</p>
<p>Glancing from the photograph back to Ginny, a smile tugged at her lips. "She's... I'll admit, it was odd at first, still catches me as odd sometimes, but we started exchanging owls because of the business we're involved in with Black, and we've warmed up to each other. She certainly doesn't degrade me for being a Muggle-born, she makes the potion I take to quell effects from the scar, and she, well, it's like she's a different person without her husband by her side... and with Riddle's death, end of the Death Eaters, all that." She shrugged, cutting herself off from rambling any further.</p>
<p>"She never did take the Dark Mark," Ginny mused, "but I also heard she stood there while you were tor-" The younger witch caught herself, brown eyes looking at her in apology.</p>
<p>Hermione waved her off. "You can bring it up, Gin. Not <em>all </em>the time, but you don't- you don't have to walk on eggshells about it." She swallowed hard. "She- can you keep this to yourself? I'm not sure she'd like it gossiped about to the point where it gets to the Prophet."</p>
<p>Ginny nodded, making a motion to zip her lips with her fingers. "I won't even tell Harry."</p>
<p>"She expressed her remorse at not doing anything, but I... I realised a while back that she did it to save her son. If she risked it all for me, he would have been... who knows, but it would have wrecked her if something happened to him because of her. And I know we're not mums yet, but-"</p>
<p>"Huh, so even Mrs. Malfoy has a maternal instinct," Ginny considered as if it was a revelation, then flashed a grin at Hermione. "Kidding! Obviously she has to, look at how <em>spoiled </em>Draco Malfoy was. Sounds like that witch has got some layers to her. Just, you'll let me know if she hurts you, yeah? Can't have two Black sisters being arseholes to you."</p>
<p>"Yeah," she'd replied, pocketing the photograph, leaving out that if Narcissa hadn't taken advantage of what happened at Hogwarts last, in order to blackmail or hurt her, she doubted that she would <em>intentionally</em> hurt her. She already could have, more than once, but hadn't.</p>
<p>After cleaning most of Regulus's room, she headed over to Sirius's where Harry and Ron were working. Kreacher had left the elder Black brother's room mostly unscathed, so there was a larger pile of Sirius's old possessions, including a locket that Harry's mum had given to the man, likely misplaced before Sirius had left Grimmauld Place for James Potter's home a lifetime ago. Ginny had excused herself to send a reply letter to one that Luna had sent her that morning before meeting the boys in Sirius's with Hermione. It was a teary Harry that Hermione held as she sat down beside him, taking the proffered locket and reading the inscription inside, next to a photograph of roaring lion:</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>You are so much more than your family name. Remember this.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Keep your chin up,<br/>Lily Evans</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>P. S. You and your mate Potter are still gits, though!</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>She pulled Harry closer to her, rubbing his upper arm as he sniffled.</p>
<p>"Even before she got on with them, she..." he said, his voice cracking with emotion.</p>
<p>"She cared," Hermione finished for Harry, lifting her eyes up to see Ron fiddling with his fingers, unsure how to help. He'd never been the one good with <em>feelings</em> stuff. Once Ginny returned, she removed herself from the black-haired man and let her take over, pulling her boyfriend to her so his head rested on her chest. As Ginny ran her fingers through Harry's unruly hair, Hermione made her way over to Ron, shoving her hands into the outer pockets of her robes.</p>
<p>Harry and Ginny really did love each other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So, Muggles enjoy this stuff?” Ron asked a few days later, biting off a piece of Muggle taffy (<em>"it </em>doesn't<em> make you thirsty?" he'd asked incredulously)</em> as they watched a mystery programme on the television they’d managed to wire up in Grimmauld Place. It’d taken nearly three weeks of experimenting on how to magically wire up Muggle technology<em> and </em>get programming on top of it, but she’d<em> finally </em>managed to get part of her Muggle heritage back. An extremely poor substitute for her parents, but she still wasn’t sure if it was the right time to embark on a trip to Brisbane, Australia to restore their modified and heavily suppressed memories. Likely, no… definitely not, considering the whole business with Bellatrix Black. The war was over, but peace still lay in the distance, and she didn't want to bring her parents home before reaching it.</p>
<p>It'd at least gotten easier to speak about them with people like Ron and Harry. Hermione grinned and playfully bumped Ron’s shoulder with her own. “Mum loves these sorts of telly shows, but if you’d like, I can get a football match going. My dad loves Southampton F.C., and I managed to get a taping of one of their recent matches against Arsenal from a bloke at the nearby video rental shop. I... believe it’s from January this year? if I remember right.”</p>
<p>Ron stared at her blankly, blinked a few times, then said, “Hermione, you just said a lot of words I don’t understand. Football, believe Dean was into it? Reckon I don’t remember much of his talk about it, though.”</p>
<p>She bit back a laugh and pressed a kiss to his freckled cheek. “Ah, sorry. Well, Quidditch is essentially the wizarding equivalent of football. But in football, they, well, they don’t fly. They basically run around a grass field, kicking a football to their teammates, and try to kick the ball into the other team’s goal for points. So, essentially, it’s a number of Chasers and a Keeper for each team.</p>
<p>“Southampton F.C. stands for Southampton Football Club, the football team for that city, though Arsenal is based out of Islington, London- and a taping…” she walked over to the cabinet underneath the telly and pulled out a VHS tape, “is what’s on this thing, which is called a videotape, or VHS for short. It stores a reel of moving images on it to watch whenever you’d like, so long as you have this,” she pointed at the VHS player, “to play it in.”</p>
<p>Ron nodded along as she talked, but his interest was especially piqued by the “videotape” concept. “We should make something like those videotapes for Quidditch, it’d be wicked to be able to watch and re-watch matches. Maybe instead of a telly, we could project them with our wands wherever we liked?” He furrowed his brow and rested his chin on his fisted hand, and Hermione could practically<em> hear </em>the gears in his head turning.</p>
<p><em> Boys and their sports, </em> she thought, then added <em> girls </em> to that thought mainly because of Ginny, and placed the tape in the player, utilising her wand as a makeshift remote control- a set of new spells she'd had near all the time in the world to create. Ron was confused for all of five minutes, then fell into watching the game as if he’d been a football fan all his life. It was endearing to see him cheer for <a id="return1" name="return1"></a>Southampton<sup>[<a href="#note1">1</a>]</sup> despite their poor scoring, simply because they were her dad’s favourite team.</p>
<p>“They’re kind of like the Chudley Cannons,” he remarked that evening as they ate at the Burrow. “Terrible, but can’t help but root for the underdog. Reminds me,” he turned his attention to his sister, “You said you’re looking at teams to try out for after you finish your seventh year, right, Ginny?”</p>
<p>Ginny grinned. “Yeah, definitely. My top pick’s the Holyhead Harpies, they’re<em> brilliant</em>. Won’t be too fussed if I don’t get recruited by them, but it’d be wicked.”</p>
<p>“I’m sure you’ll have plenty of teams lining up to recruit you, Gin,” Harry said, placing a kiss to her temple as he sat back down at the long Weasley table, squeezing her shoulder at the same time. “You’re a brilliant Chaser <em>and </em>Seeker. Anyone’d be a fool not to want you on their team.”</p>
<p>Hermione smiled at the two of them and felt Ron’s hand rest on her thigh underneath the table. Eyes slightly widening, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and reached under the table, putting her hand on top of his and hooking their thumbs together.</p>
<p>This was… easy. Simple. And it made natural sense.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It was the middle of June, and they slept together for the first time that night, locking and warding Ron’s bedroom for complete privacy after she downed a contraceptive potion she'd taken from Ginny's room, leaving a note behind that she'd buy her a replacement. He was firm against her gentle curves, slight ginger hair running along his breastbone and trailing downward from his navel. He shivered as she ran her index finger down it, tugging playfully at the waistline of his trousers until, at his shuddering breath, she undid the button and zipper, helping him remove the article of clothing.</p>
<p>She followed after him, stripping herself of her robes, blouse, and trousers, their boots and socks already long forgotten before anything else had come off their bodies. He was nervous, she was nervous, but they managed it all right despite it being both of their first times.</p>
<p>“You never did this with… her?” she tentatively asked after he'd stretched her with two of his fingers, as he positioned himself at her entrance, gently pressing through her folds. He’d grinned bashfully and shook his head, and for some reason, that made her love him all the more. He was safe, he was one of her best friends, and his ginger hair<em> was </em>so pretty, along with all of his freckles. As he entered her, he was gentle and slow, asking if she was okay, and once she got past the initial mixture of pleasure and pain, his girth stretching her, she arched up into him, telling him through rugged breaths that she was, “Good, good, <em> grand</em>.”</p>
<p>It didn’t last long, but he came inside of her, her hips rolling into him as he finished his thrusts. He laid down beside her, and oh, she just <em>couldn’t</em> blame him, she hadn’t even known how to ask him to properly get her off as well. Or if she was even <em>supposed </em>to ask him. And the next morning, he was <em>ever </em>so apologetic and gave her such a fumbling orgasm that felt so <em>Ron-like</em> that it was… cute.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It was as she cast a spell on a knife to spread strawberry jam on her toast the morning after that a now familiar owl swooped through the Weasleys’ kitchen and dropped an envelope next to her plate. It was Leonis, "one of the Malfoys’ owls," she’d had to explain. Hermione, despite herself, smiled as she manually opened the envelope, placing the letter on the table as the knife finished its work, and she placed some scrambled eggs into her mouth.</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Hermione, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Thank you for writing such a detailed report on how my vials have affected you after several doses. I am running tests on the ingredients to see what exactly needs done so that the tingling sensation is removed, as that’s rather unpleasant and not at all intended. St. Mungo’s allows an hour per day to work on my own projects, supervised, so I hope to send you an improved batch before June is out. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I have also run F’s potion - anonymously, of course - by two of my colleagues, and we are working on improving its potency and longevity. And… I do not mean to pry or push, but I was wondering if you had yet researched or made an appointment with a Healer here to discuss what we talked about? My offer to accompany you still stands and does not expire, if you would find my presence welcome- I merely know that sometimes it helps to have someone with. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Bellatrix tells me that she has started to experience something akin to... withdrawal when it comes to you, Hermione. She likens it to a heavy weight in her chest, a desire to see you that she tells me that she abhors. Have you experienced anything like this? Please let me know. I am aware that if so, it cannot be pleasant for you either.<br/></em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I await your return owl. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Warmly,<br/></em> <em> Narcissa </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> P. S.  This, and all future owls to you, have been spelled with a scrambling charm that makes the letter illegible nonsense to anyone but you. Do not worry if someone else tries to read it, which, considering some of your companions, they will try. They will not see it as you do, though I will take certain precautions in my writing regardless. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Ah. Before she could pocket the letter, Narcissa was proven right; Ron had leaned over, squinting at the words that weren't quite words to his eyes. “Mrs. Malfoy sending you nonsense, ‘Mione?” he asked. “I can’t understand a thing, and I’ve read some of Luna’s letters to Ginny.”</p>
<p>“Are you always so nosy, Ronald?” she said with a sigh, then pocketed the letter in her traveling cloak. She had plans to go into Hogsmeade today and browse a new selection of multi-purpose quills the <em>Daily Prophet </em>had run a short article on.</p>
<p>He shrugged and gulped down the last of his coffee before pressing a light kiss to her cheek. “You’ve known me since we were eleven, Hermione. You tell me.” She flushed lightly at the sweet contact and the way he'd said <em>you tell me</em>. Their eyes met, and for a moment in his blue she saw the eleven-year-old who’d been a right git to her when they had first met. Granted, she hadn’t quite been the pleasure to be around, either, but she'd only wanted to try and catch up to a world she'd known nothing of less than a year prior. And learning from books was <em>fun</em>, she'd never change her mind on that.</p>
<p>But despite that rocky start, here they were so many years later, the morning after their first time- Merlin, her younger self would have been <em>mortified</em>. She pulled him down and met his lips with her own, gentle, knowing him. He was safe. He was Ronald Bilius Weasley, one of the best men she knew.</p>
<p>And yet she didn’t feel like she was terribly missing him as he left for another day of Auror training, this day starting in the thick of things as they continued to hunt down the remaining at-large Death Eaters. She pressed fingers to her lower lip, soreness causing her to shift in her seat, and finally drew Narcissa’s letter back out again, eagerly rereading her words, tracing the fingers of her other hand over the delicate yet purposeful handwriting.</p>
<p>Now that she was - somewhat surprisingly - alone in the Burrow, she could write a response at the kitchen table. But she was drawn upwards, to the room she and Ron had shared last night, and instead sat at the desk that looked out over the back fields that the Weasleys owned. She dipped her quill in black ink and composed a response to Narcissa, all while Leonis groomed herself on an empty owl perch in the bedroom.</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Narcissa, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Though I have absolutely no doubt as to your potions mastery and absolute expertise, please take your time on the vials, I am in no rush. That tingling sensation is hardly a bother, merely something I found fit to mention as to include all details. I’m pleased to hear that St. Mungo’s has given you the time to work on your own projects. I hope they are treating you well otherwise? </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Thank you for… keeping F’s work anonymous, as much as possible. Your discretion is appreciated. As for your question, don’t worry, I don’t consider it as prying or pushing. I… have yet to make that appointment or even think about it much. Do you have anyone that you might recommend to contact? I’m afraid I don’t have any strong connection with St. Mungo’s or their staff. But I do accept your offer. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> It appears Bellatrix and I continue to have at least one thing we can agree on: abhorrence of this cursed bond. However, it will get us nowhere to whinge on and on about it. It is what it is, and I feel a Muggle psychologist would have an absolute field day with it, probably likening it to “exposure therapy” by way of jumping into the deep end of a swimming pool with next to no swimming experience. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> To answer you, though, I have experienced the same symptoms. If there is something that can be done, I know I’d appreciate it. Perhaps we can come up with some sort of… suppressant? </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> (Or maybe Bellatrix and I should be roommates. I’m kidding.) </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>she paused for a moment, considering how to sign off the letter, mulling over Narcissa’s usage of ‘warmly’ in her mind-</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> Fondly,<br/></em> <em> Hermione </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> P. S. I love Ron, I do, but he was the first to prove you right. He tried to read your letter, but all he saw was, in his own words, “nonsense.” </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> P. P. S. I have also added my own scrambling charm on my letters to you. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Carefully spelling the letter into a perfect trifold, she slid it into an addressed envelope, and with a small kiss to Leonis’s head she sent the owl on her way, envelope securely hooked around one of her talons. She watched as the creature disappeared into the distance, chin resting in the palm of her hand.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dining at The Padlocked Pensieve was not how Hermione Granger envisioned spending her Sunday afternoon. Least of all did she ever foresee herself sitting at a table with Draco Malfoy and his mother, drinking finely aged elf-made wine that Narcissa had ordered for the three of them. Every so often she still felt some eyes on her that did not belong to either of the Malfoys but continued to hold her head high. The war was over. She still had remnants of it clawing around inside of her, sometimes literally, but damned if she wasn’t a Gryffindor who wasn’t giving it all she had to keep going.</p>
<p>Because <em> yes</em>, she was here with two of the Malfoys, but Tom Riddle was<em> dead</em>, Draco had already said he was looking for some way to rid himself of his Dark Mark, and they were both being quite genial towards her, <em> and </em> Narcissa <em> had </em>been rather persuasive in her letter inviting her here. Draco had even taken her hand and pressed a chaste kiss to her knuckles before guiding her into her seat. Ever the pure-blood gentleman now, even though she was and would always be a proud Muggle-born.</p>
<p>All right, it was bloody <em> weird</em>, weirder than the Weird Sisters themselves, but she knew how to roll with the punches. She could fall apart later if need be.</p>
<p>“Mother has told me,” Draco said in between bites of his Lamb Henry after they had exhausted the social niceties, “that you brought the matter of magical ancestry up during one of your visits with Aunt Bella.”</p>
<p>She swallowed the bit of soup that she’d placed in her mouth and wiped her lips with the napkin next to her plate. Sharing a pointed look with Narcissa, who had hidden behind her glass of wine as she drank from it, Hermione said, “I did. It’s fascinating to me that pure-blooded families place such emphasis on their family tree lines, but no one has ever delved into the possibility that at least some Muggle-borns may, and likely do, have a magical ancestor from generations prior.”</p>
<p>Draco worried at his lip, nodding. “You make some sense, Granger. But how would you propose we go about investigating… Muggle-born ancestry, as you say it?” She was genuinely surprised at his lack of any pompous retort. If he’d even deigned to speak with her during their sixth year, he would have laughed in her face at the mere prospect of making any sort of effort towards empowering or investing any time in Muggle-borns like herself.</p>
<p>“Written records make the most logical sense to start with, because that's something Muggles and wizardkind share. We could compare those records with… well, since pure-bloods do so highly treasure their family trees, certainly you all have your magical ways to track lineage?”</p>
<p>Draco and Narcissa shared a look then, and for a few moments Hermione felt as if she were intruding, that she didn’t belong here, that she should have never opened her mouth-</p>
<p>“We do have ‘our ways,’ Miss Granger,” Narcissa said somewhat coolly, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. “There are a host of spells and potions related to ancestry.”</p>
<p>“That’s… nice to hear of, plenty of options, then,” she said quietly, finishing off her baked potato before placing her cutlery on the empty plate in front of her. Draco snapped his fingers, summoning a handsomely dressed house elf who took away their dishes, save for the last bit of wine they each had left in their glasses. She sipped and finished hers as she waited for either Malfoy to explain further.</p>
<p>Finally, Draco said somewhat tentatively, slightly changing the subject, “I know you are aware that the Ministry would like for you to act as the Muggle-born co-head of the Blood Status Reparations Alliance, also known as the <a id="return2" name="return2"></a>BSRA<sup>[<a href="#note2">2</a>]</sup>. And I also know that you’re aware of my position within it. It was… something I was not terribly fond of when it was first assigned to me, but working on it with others in the past month or so, has given me something… worthwhile, to do, and opened my mind further to... Muggle-borns.</p>
<p>“Believe it or not, Granger,” and here, Draco had gathered his usual confidence back, “my mother has convinced me to extend a warm welcome to the BSRA, if you decide to join. We’ve had our differences, but what’s done is done, and I…” he swallowed hard, fidgeting with the chain of his silver pocket watch that lay on the table next to him, “I apologise for how I treated you during our Hogwarts years. It was how I was I raised, but recent events,” he glanced over at his mother, "and so much more have shown me that it was unbecoming of me and even more so, terribly bigoted towards you for something," he swallowed again, "something no one has control over."</p>
<p>Hermione couldn’t help but gape at the blond-haired man sitting slightly across from her. This was… this was more than she had expected. Much, <em>much</em> more than she had<em> ever </em>expected. But, flipping back through her memories, ever since sixth year, something had changed in Draco Malfoy; it had been a slow change, but he’d been as broken by the war as anyone else. His family name tarnished, left for him to pick up the pieces and continue on. His family’s home taken over by Tom Riddle at the height of the war, and she did well to not forget how he’d fudged on claiming that Harry was, well, <em> the </em>Harry Potter, when she and the boys had been brought to Malfoy Manor by Snatchers.</p>
<p><em> “He knew it was me right away, he </em>knew<em>, and yet he fudged, said he couldn’t be sure,” Harry had said during his double-testimony for Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. “If he’d said the truth, Riddle would have been called right away, and the entire tide of war would have shifted. Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and I would likely be </em>dead<em>. He lied, and while we escaped with our lives, they suffered for it by Tom Riddle’s hands afterward.” </em></p>
<p>“Thank you, Draco,” she said, then, “I… give me some time to process this, please. But, thank you. Truly.”</p>
<p>He nodded in her direction, and she was glad that she didn’t have to explain her reasoning any further. She didn’t owe him forgiveness right after his apology, however sincere it was. She looked over at Narcissa and saw her smiling slightly, slowly tapping a finger against her wine glass. She swore the older witch’s blue eyes were twinkling with barely concealed satisfaction.</p>
<p>Setting her hands in her lap, she said, “If you could owl me some more information on what you’re done so far with the BSRA through your mother, I’m willing to look through it and see if it’s something I would genuinely be interested in helping with.”</p>
<p>Draco's lips quirked into a small smile. “That I can do, Granger. This idea of yours, concerning magical ancestry, it might be something we could look into creating research for with the help of the organisation. I doubt that the Ministry or Hogwarts would have any concern with it, and… the old pure-blood sway doesn’t hold anything over the BSRA. Which is why, to get this thing off the ground, we need our Muggle-born co-head.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” she said, supplying a wider smile of her own, though she nearly gasped as she felt a hand rest on her trouser-clad right knee, squeezing it gently. Her eyes quickly darted over to Narcissa sitting directly across from her in the opposite booth, because there was<em> no way </em>Draco would do that, he wasn’t even close enough to her, and would have bumped into his mum in the process. Narcissa’s face gave away nothing, though, which didn’t surprise her.</p>
<p>The Malfoys generously paid for her meal, despite her protestations which both Malfoys agreed was<em> extremely </em>Gryffindor of her, and Hermione excused herself to visit the women’s toilet after exchanging farewells with them.</p>
<p>It was as she washed her hands in the sink after relieving herself- again thankful for the potion that tugged on her magic when she needed to go before it involuntarily happened, effectively replacing the way her brain's signals had<em> used </em>to fulfill that role- that she heard another toilet flush, the mirror in front of her soon revealing Narcissa Malfoy as she emerged from the stall.</p>
<p>“I thought you and Draco had already left?” she asked, wandlessly spelling her hands with a drying charm. Narcissa walked up to the sink beside her, humming in response as she soaped her hands up, carefully massaging it onto her palms and fingers. For all the self-control she thought she possessed, she could hardly take her eyes off the older woman's motions. Narcissa rinsed, wordlessly applied her own drying charm, and placed a gentle hand between Hermione's shoulder blades.</p>
<p>“Oh, I merely told Draco I thought I should visit the ladies’ facilities before leaving as well. Which was true enough.”</p>
<p>Hermione turned to face Narcissa as so many questions rose to the front of her mind, namely “<em>true </em>enough<em>? how utterly Slytherin</em>,” but Narcissa only smiled and placed a finger against Hermione’s lips. “Shush, you’re thinking <em> quite </em> loudly. I may have brought it up in front of my son if it wasn’t of such a delicate matter.” She took her finger off Hermione’s lips and guided her towards the lounge of the facilities.</p>
<p>“...Delicate?” Hermione asked, furrowing her brow.</p>
<p>Narcissa sat down on the settee, gesturing for Hermione to join her. When she did, she heard Narcissa cast <em> muffliato</em>, then she rested a warm hand on Hermione’s thigh, fingertips touching her knee.</p>
<p>“A delicate subject that concerns an act one does in a room such as this.”</p>
<p><em> Oh… OH. </em> Hermione blushed, crossing one foot over the other, casting her gaze towards the stalls. She didn’t know why she was feeling so embarrassed, after all the older woman had literally seen her wet herself in Hogwarts- at least that hadn’t happened<em> this </em>time considering she’d taken her potion, but still.</p>
<p>“I told you there’s nothing to be ashamed of, Hermione,” Narcissa said, bringing her other hand up to Hermione's jaw, gingerly pulling her back so they looked at each other. “I merely thought since we are already together in-person, that I shouldn’t waste an owl to tell you that I have found a Healer for you to go to about this, if you are comfortable with her.”</p>
<p>“Wh-who did you find?” Hermione asked, slightly breathless.</p>
<p>Narcissa smirked, and oh <em> Merlin</em>, what was that fire that lit in her lower stomach? She couldn’t have eaten anything bad here, it was one of the finest restaurants that hadn’t been destroyed during the war, and it didn’t exactly feel <em>bad</em>. She swallowed thickly and waited.</p>
<p>“My sister, Andromeda Tonks.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup>1</sup>As I do not live in the UK, I don't follow football over there besides random snippets I learned on Tumblr ages ago, so I used Wikipedia to look up things about the 1997-1998 season and extrapolated from there.<sup>[<a href="#return1">return to text</a>]</sup></p>
<p><a id="note2" name="note2"></a><sup>2</sup>Meant to mention this earlier, but I originally wrote this as Blood Reparations Alliance, but that, uh, would have made the acronym BRA, so that was promptly thrown out.<sup>[<a href="#return2">return to text</a>]</sup></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>narcissa and draco share some time together, bellatrix is extremely vulgar, hermione and narcissa share a meal.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter didn't originally exist and was added after i finished the first draft of... chapter nine or ten? whenever i noticed i'd left a certain strawberry something unaddressed. it's part fluff. mostly fluff? st. mungo's is next.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>About an hour after their meal with Hermione, Narcissa had asked her darling boy to meet her at the manor, and of course, he had listened to her. “Mummy's boy through and through,” she'd said to him on various occasions as he grew up. The first several times he had giggled and seconded the thought without hesitation-</p><p>
  <em> “Always be yours, Mummy,” he'd said in that pre-pubescent voice of his, leaning into her touch as she cradled him after a nightmare. She'd hummed him back to sleep, pressing a kiss to his forehead, forgoing the use of her wand to tuck him back in. Lucius thought she was coddling the boy, that she should leave his care wholly to the female house-elves “like Malfoys have done for generations,” but at least he didn't physically force her away from her own son. She wouldn’t let him if he tried. Though certainly, he always had choice words to say when she returned to their bedroom, but she could take that. She could take it all if she still had access to her 'Dragon.' </em>
</p><p>As he'd grown older, especially once he'd returned from his first year at Hogwarts, he had started rebuking her affections, saying he was too old for them. But he wasn't too old when it came to healing his injuries during the summer holidays.</p><p>
  <em> “Mum!” he'd cried the summer between his second and third year. He'd fallen off his broom as he practiced in their small Quidditch pitch, his ankle mangled and wrist broken. She really wished Lucius would have allowed her to cast safety charms on the wretched thing. She'd give the entire world to her son if it were possible, truly, but she didn't have to like the gifts they gave him. She only liked that they brought him joy. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> That day they'd only brought pain, but the pain was overshadowed by the effects of her healing expertise. With a few castings, he was all but one hundred percent better, and he'd allowed her to wrap him in her arms, bringing his back against her chest, pressing kisses to his blond hair. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Muuuuum,” he half-whined, but she noted the hint of happiness and contentment in it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Mummy's boy through-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “And through, I know, Mum,” he'd finished for her, ever so slightly snuggling into her hold. </em>
</p><p>It was never the same after the Dark Lord- no, <em> Tom Riddle- </em> had returned to the living. She never spoke those words again to her son until before he set out for his sixth year, the year he was set out to fulfill an impossible mission for Riddle. The year that she was left alone, save for periodic visits from Bellatrix, because Lucius was in Azkaban. She had managed to find Draco packing in his bedroom, the picture of someone consumed with anxiety. Much paler than usual, his Adam's apple bobbing as he looked at his mother in his doorway, eyes scrunching shut.</p><p>Riddle had yet to make permanent use of their home, but they could not refuse him much longer. Lucius had condemned their entire family. She had stopped sleeping in their bedroom, though it had long since truly been <em> theirs- </em>she couldn't remember how long it had been since they'd willingly come together to have relations. Whatever spark there had been had gone out long, long ago. He was no longer who she wanted.</p><p>But Draco, oh her dragon had accepted her embrace that morning, clinging to her back, allowing himself to cry because his father was locked in Azkaban, <em>and</em> he had taken the Dark Mark not even a month prior- something she never wanted for him, but she had no way to let him know, to persuade him into <em>not </em>taking it without sentencing them both to death. She knew, even without her Legilimency, that he was in absolute turmoil, torn between the boyish love he still held for his father and the reality of his father’s actions that had led them all down this ruinous path.</p><p>It was only the two of them.</p><p><em> “Am I still allowed to be yours, Mum?” he'd whispered, his words coursing through her hair like a soothing balm. As if... as if taking the Dark Mark made him the </em>exclusive <em>property of the Dark Lord. Her grip tightened around him, and she'd pulled him ever closer to her.</em></p><p><em> Breath hitching in the back of her throat, she'd said just as softly, “</em>Always<em>, my dear boy. Mummy's-” </em></p><p>
  <em> “-boy, through and through. Please stay safe. I'll write as often as I can.” </em>
</p><p>He stood next to the sofa in the drawing room now, eyeing her carefully as she emerged from the Floo.</p><p>“You came,” she said, coming over to put her hands on his shoulders after vanishing the soot from her robes. He had long since grown taller than her- she had to glance upwards slightly to meet his gaze. Eyes the same colour as his father's, but with her slight warmth that he'd done his best to hide for so long. But when he looked at her, the warmth shone all the way through.</p><p>“Of course, Mum,” he returned with a small smile. "Granger was... pleasant. She seems at ease with you.”</p><p>Narcissa sat down on the settee, motioning for him to come sit next to her. She brushed some of his pale blond locks behind his ear and smiled. “I know it's difficult for you, Draco, but perhaps in time, it will become easier, and you can come to call her by her first name.” She noticed him rolling his eyes at that, but she also saw that he didn’t completely mean it. </p><p>“I am only sorry that I couldn't explain myself properly to you until after...” She swallowed and met his eyes again. He nodded, understanding. “She is pleasant to be around during those visits with Bella-” a pause, shuddering breath, “and far too endearing for her own good. Now that we can start seeing each other as fellow witches, without the burdens of wartime.”</p><p>He patted her arm. “However odd it is, I'm... glad to see that she's been good for you, now that your old social circle is… fractured. Granger may always be an insufferable know-it-all, but without her, Potter and Weasley wouldn't have made it.” From her son's mouth, she knew that was a high compliment towards the Muggle-born witch, despite the phrasing of it.</p><p>Her eyes gleamed and she drew him to her, pressing feather-light kisses to the top of his head. “You were so good today, my dragon.”</p><p>With a laugh, he said with a small shake of his head, “Always your mummy's boy through and through, right?”</p><p>
  <em> Always. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>If going back to Hogwarts the week after the<em> incident </em> was enough to send Hermione into a grand feeling of embarrassment, despite Narcissa again reassuring her that everything was okay, that she didn’t think a <em> thing </em> less of her… that was nothing compared to the way Bellatrix absolutely <em> leered </em>at her when they arrived. Hermione froze, wishing she could say something, anything.</p><p>But Bellatrix spoke first.</p><p>“Oh, muddy, muddy, mudpet… aren’t you a naughty little thing.”</p><p>Hermione’s face paled. She- she hadn’t. Had she?</p><p>Something compelled her to move closer. She didn’t want Narcissa to...</p><p>“You’re ever so lucky I didn’t interfere,” Bellatrix said, voice low but still loud enough that Hermione was sure Narcissa could still hear it. <em> Damn it. </em> “But it was such a lovely flash of feeling that I haven’t had in <em> so </em> long, even if it was from a blood-traitor’s cock inside of you. To feel as if a virgin witch again, what an absolute <em> treasure</em>.”</p><p>Okay, so it wasn't about what happened at Hogwarts, but. Still. She could practically feel Narcissa’s magic crackling behind her.</p><p>“We were raised better than this, Bella,” Narcissa said bitingly. “Why should you care about a Muggle-born’s intimate life? It’s below us.” Bellatrix merely laughed and fell back into a seat, clapping her hand against the table in amusement.</p><p>“Ah-ah, Cissy, we may have been<em> raised </em> better, but our dear mumsy isn’t here, is she?” She shot a toothy grin towards Hermione. “Such ravishing you allowed the ginger, pet, though after was a flash of… disappointment, hm? Until the morning, and oh it was so sickeningly <em> sweet </em> and <em> clumsy</em>. You must endeavour to teach the poor blood-traitor on how to please a witch properly. He seems… lacking. Or perhaps you should find a good <em> witch </em>who knows what she’s doing, hm?”</p><p>“Oh for Godric’s sake,” Hermione seethed. “I’m not listening to this sick spiel. Take a bloody vial next time! My business with Ron is mine alone.” She didn’t deign to respond to any more of the dark witch’s words, though she felt a warmth pool in her at the mention of a <em> witch </em>doing what… what Ron had done. Merlin, she could process that later, or never.</p><p>Bellatrix giggled, “Unfortunately it’s not<em> quite </em> yours alone, considering this lovely little <em> blood bond</em>, and it’s <em> much </em> better entertainment than anything <em> here</em>. You’ll have to accept it, pet, or entertain the idea of celibacy.” She grinned wickedly.</p><p>Somehow, Narcissa managed to change the subject, though to what, Hermione couldn’t be bothered to keep track of, because of all people, Bellatrix Black had managed to<em> retroactively </em>ruin her first time with Ron. And that was all she could think about until she felt a tug of magic on herself, a signal that Narcissa was leaving the room, and she got to her feet and followed the blonde-haired witch out, not even hearing anything Bellatrix might have said to her, too lost in her own world.</p><p>“Are you… all right?” she finally heard Narcissa’s voice wander over to her as they walked towards the Headmistress’s office. Hermione shrugged her shoulders, and without thinking, made a right fool of herself.</p><p>“I mean, that depends... how would you feel if Bellatrix had invaded your intimacy with Lucius?”</p><p>Immediately, she cupped her palm over her mouth and turned strickenly to apologise to the older witch. Narcissa had taken a defensive stance, peering at her almost like an ant she’d like to squash, nearly like she’d<em> used </em>to look before, when they’d had that unfortunate encounter in Madam Malkin’s. However, the instant she ardently apologised for going too far, Narcissa visibly relaxed and placed a warm hand on her arm.</p><p>“You are understandably worn out after this visit. I am sorry that we have yet to develop a proper suppressant, so you won’t need to contend with all of this from my sister.” Removing her hand, she continued, “We’re doing everything we can, Hermione.”</p><p>Softly, all she could say was, “I know.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>As they appeared back in Grimmauld Place, Hermione racked her brain for a reason to have Narcissa<em> stay</em>. The woman had done so much for her, made her feel like she wasn’t some… broken mess of a witch, and continued to uphold this whole... reparations business without complaint. And she found that she was pleasantly enjoying the other witch's company. She wanted… she wanted...</p><p>“Would you like to stay for a spot of lunch?” she asked in a swift whoosh of breath, feeling the anxiety leaking out in spite of her attempt to sound unaffected and casual. Narcissa had been reaching for the Floo powder, but paused, retracted her hand, and let her arm fall back to her side.</p><p>She eyed Hermione curiously, then with a real- a <em> genuine </em>smile it seemed, Narcissa said, “I would love that. What did you have in mind?”</p><p>Her mind went back to that letter and particular postscript about strawberry milkshakes… ‘<em>my favourite, too.’ </em>Eyes shining, she said, “What about Snitch’s? Would that be agreeable? They’re excellent at privacy wards when requested, so the press can’t bother us asking for quotes and stories. Whatever you need, they’ll do, and we can double-check everything.”</p><p>Narcissa seemed to work the idea over in her mind for a moment, and afraid that she might still find a reason to say no, quickly amended, “Or- or, if you have another idea, I-”</p><p>Hushing her, the older witch said, “No, no, it’s a fine idea. I only… if I was able to<em> see </em>you and your friends there, what sort of privacy ward is that? I’m all too aware of how people may perceive us if we are seen together in such a popular spot as that.” Quieter, she added, “As I know you are aware, too,” hearkening back to the eyes on them and Draco at The Padlocked Pensieve. Snitch’s was far more public and far less made to intrinsically hold secrets, meaning…</p><p>“You know I don’t care if people see us together, right?” she said, pulling a bemused face. “And Black has no access to the papers or magazines, if they<em> do </em>happen to see us and want to make up some story. Or at least, that's what I was told? And as for when you saw me there earlier, there was a ward in place so no one could approach us unless we wanted them to.”</p><p>The older witch’s eyes softened. “I am… grateful for that, please believe me. And yes, she doesn't receive any news publishings. I’m <em> especially </em>well aware, because Bella has found fit to remind me at every opportunity.” Hermione noticed as the older witch moved closer and tentatively brushed a stray curl of hair out of her face that she’d paid no mind to until now. When their eyes met again, Narcissa said, “I merely do not wish to drag you into our dreadful family affairs.”</p><p>Furrowing her brow, Hermione clenched her jaw and got a little bit further into Narcissa’s personal space, looking directly into her eyes.</p><p>Slowly, yet with all the strength she could muster as she made to stand her ground, driven forward by the intimate action Narcissa Malfoy had allowed herself, she repeated her previous sentiment. “I don’t<em> care </em> if people see us together, Narcissa. Please understand that. If you would still like complete privacy wards to hide us from the <em> entire world</em>, if that will make you… feel better, then fine. But don’t… don’t do it in some attempt to save my reputation. I couldn't care less about that rubbish now. Once that Skeeter woman ruined whatever reputation I had back in fourth year, well...”</p><p>Seeing something register in Narcissa’s gaze, she backed down some in her tone as she took a couple of steps back. “And no matter what you have to say about it, I’m already<em> in </em> or will soon likely <em> be in </em> your family affairs. Both Malfoy and Black, even if the Black side isn't publicly known. If I choose to join your son and help lead the BSRA, word will surely get out… and again, I don’t mind it. Papers never get the whole story, and even if they do, they twist it for their own purposes. What matters,” she reached forward, lightly touching one of Narcissa’s hands with her fingers for a moment before letting her hand fall back to her side, “is how <em> we </em>see it.”</p><p>Privately, she was shocked at how the older Narcissa let her go on like that; she never could have said it all with anyone else, barring Luna- they would have interrupted her long before she got to finish. Narcissa listened though and was mostly convinced, but still told her that she would like some modicum of privacy wards, because, “I do not wish people to believe I am in any way taking advantage of you for my own benefit,” which, well, was an honest point to bring up, considering the former ill will between the Malfoy family and herself. And so, after a quick visit to the loo at Grimmauld Place, they headed out for lunch.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“I am used to buying other people’s silence, Hermione, don’t worry,” Narcissa reassured her as the wizard who had discreetly sat them pocketed a decent sum of Galleons that were definitely<em> not </em>payment for their meals. Hermione took a drink of her Gillywater and cast her gaze around them, faintly noticing the shimmering quality of the air that surrounded their indoor booth. The bistro was small but somewhat crowded, which was why it included an outdoor patio section, but no one took much notice of her or Narcissa.</p><p>“Let me at least pay for our meals, then,” she said, turning back to Narcissa. “Since you’ve paid for the privacy wards and his silence. Looks like they’re working well. You… you said that people will <em> think </em>they’ve seen us, but if they glance back, all they’ll see is an out-of-order booth with magical stains on it? And they can't hear us at all?”</p><p>Narcissa grinned, slightly resembling the Cheshire cat as she did so. “I do so love playing with other’s imaginations, Hermione. And this is all harmless, no?”</p><p>“Ingenious <em> and </em> harmless, I would venture,” Hermione said just as their dishes appeared on the table. Narcissa had ordered a hard-boiled egg, watercress, and mayonnaise sandwich along with chilled pea soup. She’d gone, well, for a small plate of bangers and mash, damned however much the onion gravy may dribble down her chin. And of course it did once, no matter how careful she tried to be, though Narcissa only chuckled and reached over the table with her napkin, wiping it off.</p><p>Heart fluttering, Hermione knew her cheeks had gone thoroughly red, and she stammered out a thank you as Narcissa lingered, the napkin resting against Hermione’s jawline for what felt like a moment longer than necessary before retreating back into her own seat. After cutting her sandwich into smaller pieces with a knife, Narcissa managed to effortlessly eat all of her food without dribbling any of it onto her face, and Hermione told herself she was jealous only because<em> how could someone eat </em> any <em> sort of soup without spilling even a little of it?  </em></p><p>“Feels a bit odd, not having to clean up after Harry and Ron,” she said as nonchalantly as she could muster. “I’d be the one cleaning their faces off, you’d think they learned no table manners at all.”</p><p>Narcissa smiled, and oh, <em> oh</em>, there it was: a little bit of greenery, likely watercress or something from the chilled pea soup, stuck between a canine and incisor. She said nothing for the time being but listened as the older witch said, “Do not believe for a moment that pure-blooded wizards outside of the Weasley family are any better, Hermione. They may take lessons in proper etiquette, but…” she went quiet for an instant, eyes flashing from a window behind them and back to Hermione's face. “Oh, Draco would absolutely <em> murder </em>me if I told you…”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes brightened, and not quite caring if she also had anything stuck in her teeth, she positively beamed. She set her elbows on the table and rested her chin on her entwined fingers, trying but knowing she failed at hiding the mischief in her gaze.</p><p>“<em>Please </em>tell me. I promise he’ll never know. Gryffindor's honour and such.”</p><p>The older woman considered her for a moment, then, “Oh, all right… as old as eleven, the summer before Draco started at Hogwarts, he was<em> still </em> dribbling anything that was even partially liquid down his chin. Too eager, he was, and though I didn’t mind it and found it <em> quite </em>adorable, Lucius…” she trailed off, slightly averting eye contact.</p><p>Not knowing how to respond to the man’s name, but piecing together what her silence had to mean, Hermione reached over to squeeze Narcissa’s hand gently, bringing blue eyes back to meet her own. “Again, he’ll never know, but oh my<em> gosh</em>, Narcissa, that makes the <em> cutest </em> picture. And…” she chewed a little on her lower lip, “just so we both have secrets here to withhold from your son knowing, I’ll have you know that I <em> love </em>milk and chocolate biscuits, and to this day I have to watch myself or I’ll get crumbly biscuit stuck around my lips with a proper milk mustache to boot.”</p><p>Merlin, she’d gone and rightly embarrassed herself, but she couldn’t find it in her to care one bit, because the way the edges of Narcissa’s eyes crinkled, eyes partially shut as she freely laughed at the image without a care to propriety… she wished she had a camera, Muggle or magical, to capture the moment. Her memory would have to suffice.</p><p>“Food is messy,” she said with a small shrug as a way of obvious explanation while Narcissa’s laughter faded, and the older witch wiped a stray happy tear from her eye. “Speaking of…”</p><p>With a flick of her wand from underneath the table, the tiny bit of watercress removed itself from between Narcissa’s teeth and landed between Hermione’s right thumb and index finger. Wiping the piece of greenery on her napkin and smiling cheekily at how Narcissa’s eyes widened in horror, she simply said, “You’re welcome.”</p><p>“You are absolutely<em> terrible</em>, Miss Granger,” Narcissa said, trying to sound displeased with her but coming across as anything but. “You were waiting to do that, weren’t you?”</p><p>Shrugging, she could only admit, “We’ve both needed a bit of cheering up after today’s visit, haven’t we? You know,” she hesitated, scuffing the soles of her boots against the floor, “I wanted to also thank you for… changing the subject earlier today, with Bellatrix. I didn’t know what to say, but you managed to.”</p><p>This time it was Narcissa reaching over, clasping their hands together. “She had no right to bring that up. We <em> were </em>raised better than that, though I hope you know that my ‘below us’ comment was only made for appearance’s sake?”</p><p>Hermione nodded, barely pulling her hand away from Narcissa’s, only to flip it over and intertwine their fingers together so she could lightly apply reassuring pressure to the other witch’s paler skin. “I know. It doesn’t hurt, because I… I know you don’t mean them. At least<em> now</em>, you don’t?” she winced at the way her voice slightly cracked towards the end, betraying her emotions.</p><p>“Hermione…” Narcissa started, “I <em> was </em> raised to call Muggle-borns that <em> awful </em> slur, <em> was </em> raised to believe in pure-blood supremacy, and until some time in my fourth year didn’t earnestly question a thing. Children all too easily believe what their parents tell them. Yet when Andromeda started seeing Ted Tonks in her sixth year, and I repeatedly saw without a doubt how absolutely <em> bright </em> and <em> talented </em> many Muggle-borns at Hogwarts were in comparison to too many pure-bloods, among other things I saw and experienced at Hogwarts, I began to…” she paused, “seriously question. Only in private, though, hardly even with Andy did I ever say what was truly going through my head. Until recently, at least. And even now, I must admit that I was so... <em> dedicated </em>to keeping the facade up, I wonder if I ever truly let go of what I was raised to believe.”</p><p>She felt Narcissa squeeze her hand, her thumb running against her wrist. She wasn't sure how it was so easy to engage in comforting physical contact with the other woman, but she didn't question it. Everyone needed all the reassurance they could get after such a horrendous war, and she had gotten used to the easy physical contact between herself and the boys when all they had was each other for nine months.</p><p>“I… to survive," Narcissa said, "after Andy was disowned, I almost continuously worked on improving my Occlumency to mastery, something I had already paired with increasing my finesse at Legilimency. Combined with those, I put on an act, only showing the barest of hints to Draco, and even that was on the rarest of occasions. He himself was surprised when I finally let him know the truth.”</p><p>“I’d wondered how… how you kept Riddle from seeing that Harry was actually alive,” Hermione murmured, astounded at the woman’s dedication. “I believe… I’ve pieced together how the Minister and Professor McGonagall came to trust you. Even if the Ministry as a whole doesn’t.”</p><p>Narcissa sighed dejectedly. “I was still a coward, not a spy like Severus.”</p><p>“Professor Snape had no family to protect!” she exclaimed. “He… he was a brave man, but he only had himself to look out for. You had Draco, Narcissa. And Lucius,” again, adding the man as an afterthought.</p><p>“Lucius helped me in creating our son,” Narcissa said, a dark edge to her tone, “but that was about the full extent of his truly helpful contributions, looking back on it now.”</p><p>A sharp intake of breath and Hermione said the only stupid thing that came to mind, “I’m- I’m sorry.” That it explained so much of Draco’s actions at Hogwarts, even if it didn't excuse them? That it explained how different Narcissa had acted when her husband had been a constant, now apparent<em> thorn </em>in her side? It explained so much, yet so few words came to her. All she knew was that she hated the dark turn the older witch’s voice had taken.</p><p>Narcissa dismissed the subject with a casual roll of her wrist though, and as they finished their lunches, a small dessert menu appeared to the side of their mostly empty dishes. Scanning the few categories and items, she was stuck between a milkshake and a molten lava chocolate cake, unsure if Narcissa would want to get a milkshake herself- until suddenly Narcissa’s finger entered her field of vision, gesturing towards the "Cold Treats" category.</p><p>Looking up at the older witch, she grinned. “Strawberry milkshake? They’re your favourite, too, right?”</p><p>“You remembered,” Narcissa said, a small smile crossing her face.</p><p>Not sure what came over her, Hermione intertwined her fingers together and rested her chin on them again as her elbows sat on the table, smiling rather shyly as she asked, “Shall we split one? I’m a bit too full to handle a whole one by myself.” She wasn’t even sure why she felt at all shy about it, she’d done it before with friends, it wasn’t anything<em> new</em>. And usually, she had to settle for sharing chocolate or vanilla, because most of her friends weren’t that into strawberry.</p><p>But Narcissa brightened at the idea. “We certainly can. Shall I place the order?”</p><p>Hermione nodded, and in another minute their lunch plates had disappeared with a soft<em> pop</em>, replaced with a single strawberry milkshake accompanied by two straws. It was as they unwrapped the straws and placed them into the shake that Hermione glanced at the empty space by Narcissa- the booth had room for two to sit side-by-side.</p><p>She wasn’t sure if Narcissa had seen her thoughts through Legilimency, she didn’t<em> think </em> she’d felt someone entering her mind, but either way, Narcissa had moved deeper into the booth and gestured to the space next to her. Hermione needed no more persuading. It <em> was </em>easier this way than leaning over the table or scooting the milkshake across the table every time one of them wanted some.</p><p>Feeling cheeky and not wanting to disturb their privacy wards, Hermione simply apparated herself to the other side of the booth next to Narcissa, turning to stick her tongue out at the older witch. Narcissa snickered, raising a hand to cover her mouth, because of course she’d been taught that, taught to be a proper lady. Hermione remembered how some Slytherins had made fun of her at Hogwarts for laughing without restraint, and she had to hold back her desire to tug Narcissa’s hand away from her mouth. She<em> had </em>laughed freely not long ago, and she realised that breaking away from traditions and teachings was a task not achieved in a day.</p><p>Instead, she brought the milkshake closer to them and leaned forward a bit, placing her mouth around her straw, eyes pivoting to watch Narcissa. The older witch wrapped her hands together and leaned forward, taking the other straw in her mouth. Her mind parsed through other memories, sharing this same experience with Ginny not all that long ago, with Harry and Ron years ago (three straws did fit, but Merlin, it was a <em> tight </em>fit; they’d wound up giggling like the actual children they’d been, instead of the children forced to grow up too quickly), but this experience with Narcissa…</p><p>Oh, what she would do to stay in these few minutes together.</p><p>She at least got to get Narcissa back for surprising her with a hand to her knee during their meal with Draco. Sliding her hand down her own thigh as Narcissa sucked on her straw, eyes glancing out a window into the alley outside, she moved it, hovering over the older witch’s left knee until blue eyes met hers again.</p><p>With a wink and a smirk, she placed her hand on Narcissa’s knee, squeezing it.</p><p>“<em>Hermione! </em> ” came the delighted squeak that <em> tried </em>to disguise itself as frustrated with her, but failed magnificently as Hermione laughed.</p><p>“That’s for surprising me the same way when we were out to lunch with your son,” she quipped, sticking her tongue out again before finishing their milkshake with a purposely loud and completely unladylike slurp.</p><p>Oh yes, she’d love to stay in this moment forever if it meant seeing Narcissa Malfoy so happy- and that, that above all, had her stay the photograph from Narcissa's Hogwarts days in one of her robe pockets. That, and her cousin Evan Rosier, could be addressed on a different day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you already have an image of Narcissa in your mind and do not wish it altered in any way, disregard this note and fan art link. BUT, if you're interested, I found a drawing of her on Tumblr (finding Draco during the Battle of Hogwarts), and <a href="https://quincysue-art.tumblr.com/post/170159615336/3">yes</a>. yes, this is exactly how I picture her for this fic.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>letters and visits between two black sisters, an appointment at st. mungo's, a trip to weasleys' wizard wheezes, and a bit of time between harry and hermione.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hellooooo, and welcome to the "holy shit hospital appointments are sometimes very embarrassing even in the wizarding world" chapter!! she's brave but the whole thing still sucks ass. no catheters involved, at least, because in this story that is definitely only a muggle thing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Dear Andromeda, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I do not know what to say. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> There is too much </em> to <em> say. </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> If there is a part of you that would accept a visit, please let me know. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Your sister, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Narcissa </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>It wasn't enough, but enough could never fit into a letter. It had been a leap of faith that she'd finally taken after decades of holding her continued love for her sister close to her heart, hidden from everyone around her. She had only hoped that though it was not enough, that it would somehow still <em>be</em> enough for Andromeda to accept a visit. Even just one.</p><p>A return letter arrived three days later, a week after the Dark Lor- <em> Tom Riddle</em>, she had to continuously remind herself, was defeated.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Narcissa, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I- you are right, there is too much to say in a letter. I was not expecting a letter from you this soon, or at all. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> At the least, I can accept one visit, but I will not hesitate to bar you- with the strongest Ministry wards- from ever visiting my home again if there is one toe out of line. You should know what I mean by this- you know who I married, and how I feel about Muggle-borns. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> My address is included in this letter. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> If tomorrow at our old tea time works for you, burn this parchment with your wand, and I will have your answer. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Regards, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Andromeda </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Her heart had stung at the formal sign-off, but Andromeda had every reason to treat this like a business transaction. However much the seemingly small slight hurt her, it had hurt infinitely more for Andy to be disowned, have her name blasted off the family tapestry, completely removed from their lives for some twenty-seven odd years. She had swallowed thickly and with a flick of her wand, the parchment went up in flames. She didn't have anything pressing on her schedule, and if there ever was anything in the way of seeing Andromeda again, she would cancel it in a heartbeat. If her sister wanted her back, she'd burn the whole world down for her.</p><p>The first visit in mid-May had gone about as well as she thought it might. Andromeda's husband had been murdered by the side Narcissa had aligned herself to for her own self-preservation- she could handle the scathing words, the tears, the screaming that almost made Andy appear like Bellatrix's twin, but without the utterly crazed venom. She took it all, a lashing she wholly <em> deserved</em>, until Andy had settled on her knees before her younger sister as she sat silently on the sofa in a house that looked nothing like the manor, and finally, <em> finally </em> they met gazes for longer than a few seconds.</p><p>"I'm sorry," was all Narcissa could say, her voice splintering from raw emotion barely held in, and she would repeat it over and over and over again for her entire <em> life </em> if needed. Andy shut her continued apologies up with the palm of her hand and finally sat down next to her, pulling Narcissa’s head against her chest. She shouldn’t have done that, Narcissa didn’t <em> deserve </em> Andy’s comfort, but they had accidentally fallen into a slice of the past.</p><p><em> “E-Evan said I’ll </em> never <em> be betrothed, Andy,” she’d said to her older sister at the tender age of twelve, close to Christmas holidays during her second year and Andy’s fourth. Through hiccoughs, she retold the entire story while her sister held her tightly on her closed four-poster. </em></p><p><em> Andy reassured her that she was </em> gorgeous, <em> she </em> would <em> find someone who utterly adored and loved and </em> cherished <em> her, and most importantly, “You’re more than your pretty blonde locks and porcelain face, Cissa, you have a beautiful brain,” - she’d poked her head and made her giggle - “and you’re a force to be reckoned with even without some dunderhead of a man. Evan’s the one who’ll be lucky to have </em> anyone <em> want him, the utter prat.” </em></p><p>After the unexpected but welcome display of comfort heralding days long past, they agreed to exchange letters to continue catching up as well as put in for another visit in a week and a half. Time to adjust, time to mourn in private the years they had lost.</p><p>It was during the following visit that she met her niece for the first time.</p><p>Nymphadora Tonks, who alternated between days in which she would accept her old nickname, Tonks, or reacted in a myriad of ways that ultimately meant she wanted to be known as <em> Dora </em> instead. That was Narcissa's first mistake, and it had sent the twenty-five-year-old into a crying fit before introductions were finished. Andy settled a reassuring hand on Narcissa's shoulder before excusing herself to comfort her newly widowed and fatherless daughter.</p><p>She'd heard stories about this niece she'd never met until now, and none of them seemed accurate anymore. A part of her heart that she hadn't opened up before, the part that reminded her that she was an <em> aunt</em>, broke at the sight of her niece this way. Again she regretted that she had never been part of the woman's life before. She had missed far too much.</p><p>"She… she’s had a tough time of it," Andy said as she finally settled on the sofa next to Narcissa again. "I should have owled you that she preferred Dora today. In the future, though, if her hair is nearly as dark as... as Bella's," her older sister winced at saying the name, "It's likely she wants Dora. If her hair is a warmer brown more like my own- her natural colour, it's typically fine to call her Tonks."</p><p>"...In the future?"</p><p>"Of course, you blasted witch. I don't let just anyone come back after the first visit, especially now. And," she lowered her voice, "I know from your letters that you aren't <em> quite </em> the piece of shite I thought you had been all this time apart. You always were the one to put on the porcelain facade, weren't you, Cissa?"</p><p>At the return of one of her beloved nicknames, Narcissa grabbed hold of her sister and embraced her fiercely. "Oh Merlin, I've missed you, Andy."</p><p>"Likewise."</p><p>Her niece had accepted <em> Tonks </em> the next time. She had even gotten to hold a not even two-months-old Teddy Lupin, watching as his eyes filtered through various colours until settling on nearly the same shade of blue as hers. He even had a spot of decent hair on his head, though it stayed a warm brown like his mother's as he sucked on his dummy. Tonks was still rather subdued but expressed some interest as her mother and aunt shared some of the better stories from their childhood together.</p><p>"Mum never talked much about her days as a Black, Aunt Narcissa," Tonks had informed her as they found themselves alone in the sitting room while Andy had taken Teddy upstairs for a nap. Fiddling with the hem of her robe sleeve, Narcissa looked up at her niece, noticing again how much like Andromeda she looked. There was enough of Ted to know without a doubt that she was a true Tonks, though. "I'm glad to hear some about her younger days, before she met dad. It's... nice. She used to always get this far away, misty look in her eyes if I tried to bring you or... Aunt Bellatrix up. It's good for her to have at least one of you back in her life."</p><p>They didn't talk about how unlikely it was that Bellatrix and Andromeda would ever reconcile.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em> Andy, </em>the letter started, and her heart pounded in her chest despite the fact that they had started making up over a month ago-</p>
  <p>
    <em> I have an odd request to ask of you. You told me that you work at St. Mungo's in the spell damages ward, and I... I have met someone who is in need of a Healer. During their time in the war, they were subjected to repeated Cruciatus curses for nearly twenty minutes before escaping. In addition to the known after-effects, they have had persistent bladder control problems, but they have never been formally diagnosed. They have been taking a modified bed-wetting prevention potion that a talented friend created for them, but they have to take it once every morning or they may accidentally wet themselves. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> What I'm getting at is... would you be willing to see this person? And formally diagnose them? If not, I understand. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> With love, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Narcissa </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>She had immediately opened Andy's return letter, intently reading every single word, and her heart had stammered once she re-read it, focusing on a single sentence.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Cissy, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Of course, I can see this person. This genderless person? Genderfluid? Or are you keeping their gender from me for another reason? You are aware that letting pronouns slip- if they use ‘he’ or ‘she’- won't reveal their identity? (You must care a lot about them to go that far to protect their privacy.) </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> If they're amenable to seeing me specifically, let me know and I can schedule an appointment in the next couple of weeks, sometime in early or mid-July. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> With heaps of love and annoyance, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Andy</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>P. S. I've attached what the patient needs to do prior to their appointment if they do so choose to come and see me.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>"You must care a lot about them..." she read quietly to herself.</p><p>
  <em> Care. </em>
</p><p>Her hands flew to cover her face, and she breathed out a shuddering sigh as Andy's words settled somewhere in the pit of her stomach.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Hermione had never liked St. Mungo’s. Realistically, she knew it made sense - she’d never liked visiting Muggle hospitals either, considering how her magic had never interacted well with Muggle medicines. All she could remember, though, was coming here for Mr. Weasley during their fifth year, worrying herself nearly to death over the man who’d become something like her wizarding father with an odd obsession for Muggle objects (that she had next to no luck ever <em> properly </em> explaining to him, which was infuriating- the man simply didn’t care to learn!).</p><p>Terrifying events had sent her here in the past, in body as well in mind when she had nearly gotten sick with dread over the attack on Professor McGonagall that had the professor here later in their fifth year, but none of them had been because of something happening to<em> her</em>. This time, though, it decidedly was.</p><p>“We’ll be going to the fourth floor,” Narcissa said now, holding tightly onto Hermione’s hand as they entered the lift. Hermione nodded mutely, shuffling close to the older woman amongst the crowd surrounding them. Everyone was so scrunched together that no one paid them much mind- especially with the slight disguising charm Narcissa had placed on them, which Hermione was extremely grateful for. She listened to the disembodied female voice that announced every floor they passed until Narcissa led the way out of the lift when “<em>Level Four: Permanent Spell Damages</em>” was airily announced and the lift doors opened.</p><p>She’d been here before, but she hadn’t seen the entire floor. <em> Neville’s parents are here, </em>she thought, and she nearly shuddered at the stray notion that she could have ended up like them if… if… She didn’t want to dwell on it. She turned her thoughts to more recent days instead.</p><p><em>“Your sister is a Healer at St. Mungo’s?”</em> <em>she’d asked. Narcissa had nodded.</em></p><p>
  <em> “Yes, though she was effectively ‘semi-retired’ until after the war… and after Ted was murdered. She felt the home rather empty, in spite of Teddy Lupin and her daughter, and is grateful that the Weasleys are happy to share parenting responsibilities with Nymphadora a few days a week so Tonks can have some rest and Andy can work part-time again.” The other woman fiddled with a strand of her blonde hair, worrying at her lip. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione had placed her hand on top of Narcissa’s, trying to provide a sliver of comfort. Narcissa looked at her, lips upturning in a small smile. </em>
</p><p><em> “We’ve exchanged a... few letters since the battle at Hogwarts, visited a bit, and reconnected to a degree,” Narcissa continued. “I haven’t told her yet </em> who <em> I know with this injury, in case she wasn’t open to it, or if she had no experience regarding the Cruciatus curse, but thankfully she is willing and has the knowledge to look into it. She wants to help, Hermione. Are you open to seeing her?” </em></p><p>
  <em> Well, now it was her turn to fidget. She hadn’t gotten to know Andromeda that well before the war, but they’d spent a decent amount of time together since the funerals, though she’d left Teddy to his godfather during visits. Was she really okay with this? Would Narcissa take it as a slight against her if she asked for a stranger instead, or would it be easier with a Healer she already had some confidence in on a more personal level? She… she had to decide, and quickly. </em>
</p><p><em> Swallowing her pride and hiding her apprehension behind light laughter, she said, “I’ve already </em> seen <em> her at the Burrow and at Grimmauld Place, but, to be serious-” she gave Narcissa a smile, “Sure, I’ll… er, I’ll give it a go. When can she see me?” </em></p><p>
  <em> “About two weeks from now is the earliest, and she’s already told me what ‘the patient’ needs to do beforehand.” At this, Narcissa removed her hand from Hermione’s and crossed her legs, picking at imaginary lint on her robes. “You, ah, you will first have to forgo Fleur’s potion for forty-eight hours, so she can ascertain exactly what’s happening, without that potion influencing anything.” </em>
</p><p><em> Hermione paled, her muscles stiffening. “Forty-eight </em> hours<em>? Merlin’s pants, I won’t be able to do anything but stay home. I can’t let myself… go out without the potion, wh-what if... I don’t...” </em></p><p><em> Words trailing off, wide eyes met concerned blue, and she saw Narcissa rake her eyes over their surroundings. </em> Oh. <em> They were still in the women's lounge at the restaurant. Hermione felt a hand on hers, pulling her up to her feet. “Let me take you back to Grimmauld Place,” Narcissa implored, ‘</em>we can talk more there’ <em> unsaid but heard. </em></p><p>
  <em> She’d had nothing in her that wanted to fight Narcissa on that notion. </em>
</p><p>The last forty-eight hours before her appointment had been a massive pain in her arse to put it lightly, even though Narcissa had stopped by Grimmauld Place to help, mostly to serve as a welcome distraction, discussing anything and everything while Harry was out on Auror field missions with Ron, which was more often than not now with his hours as a trainee Auror. She’d had to set an alarm the first night, waking herself every two hours to use the toilet, but on the second night, despite her best intentions, she’d slept through two alarms and woken up to wet pyjama bottoms. If she hadn’t cast a spell to keep her sheets dry, she would have been in even <em> worse </em>shape. It still left her humiliated, though, spelling her bottoms and herself dry before visiting the loo and getting back to sleep. Gods, she hoped that this would all be worth it in the end.</p><p>Still frazzled even now, she focused on her breathing, concentrating on Narcissa. It didn’t help, though, that another pre-appointment rule she had to abide by was keeping herself hydrated for the sake of her own health. No, they couldn’t <em> stand </em>for her to excessively limit her liquids intake, even if that would prevent any potential for accidents.</p><p><em> “Hermione, you’ll become </em> dehydrated. <em> ” </em></p><p>
  <em> She’d wanted to argue with Narcissa over the point, but the older witch would hear none of her reasoning. Even her idea to take a potion for dehydration went down the metaphorical toilet, because of the entire rule to not take any potions that could skew the test results. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “This is a load of absolute rubbish,” was all she could say as she resigned herself to it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “...It is. But it will be over soon enough.” </em>
</p><p>Narcissa had had to pour and nearly force the glass of water down her throat about half an hour before coming to St. Mungo’s, and as they walked the halls of the fourth floor to reach the examination room Andromeda gave to them, she wished for a miraculous recovery. She didn’t want a repeat of Hogwarts. She knew she’d go before leaving - the glass of water had a bit of potion in it that wouldn’t affect the testing. It was connected with a spell that linked it to Andromeda’s wand to gather data about her, much like the Muggle urodynamic testing she’d looked up, but...</p><p>Thankfully, Hermione didn’t have to wait more than five minutes. Andromeda came into the examination room, and had Hermione take off her robes, boots, and trousers and put a soft periwinkle blue hospital robe on herself. She knew she shouldn’t care about halfway stripping before the two women, but part of her still felt a sense of unease course through her body, though Narcissa had pulled out a wizarding magazine to read in a seat she’d found while Andromeda washed her hands at a sink.</p><p>The first few minutes were spent answering questions, all of which were automatically written down onto a piece of medical parchment by a self-writing quill. Andromeda more than managed to make Hermione feel, for the most part, comfortable. No one had ever come in with exactly the problem she had, but there were plenty of wizards and witches who came in with other natural and spell damage to their bladders. Once Andromeda reiterated after-care for the procedures, they began in earnest.</p><p>“I’m going to need you to lie down while I perform general and then specialised diagnostic spells on your brain, spinal cord, and bladder,” Andromeda quietly said, resting a comforting hand on her arm.</p><p>Lying back on the padded treatment table, Hermione tried to relax some more, watching curiously as Andromeda flourished her wand, wordlessly casting diagnostic spells for about ten minutes. Sometimes there was a small noise or a burst of colourful light from the tip of her wand, and every time it produced parchment filled with words, paragraphs, and sometimes a few images.</p><p>Andromeda heaved a sigh after reading through the last of the parchments, and Narcissa looked up from the magazine. Hermione had long since sat up, and at the aggravated sound Andromeda made she raised an inquisitive brow.</p><p>“My older sister is a depraved animal,” she nearly snarled. Turning to Hermione, she said, “Everything in these diagnostics verifies that what my sister did not only splintered, but almost completely destroyed the vast majority of your brain’s connection to your bladder through your spinal cord, Hermione. You’re… for lack of a more appropriate word, fortunate that her continued use of the Cruciatus curse didn’t do further harm, but it appears that it focused on the area sending and receiving the most signals at the time, and it severed most of that connection while stimulating pain receptors and branching outwards from there. At least, this is what initial diagnostics tell us.”</p><p>Hermione chewed on the inside of her cheek, not saying anything yet, though her fingers betrayed her worry as they dug into the padding of the treatment table.</p><p>“Now,” Andromeda continued, “There <em> are </em> more things we can do to help you. Fleur did an excellent job with her alteration of the bed-wetting potion… Narcissa has told me how it helps you, but we’re going to do everything we can so you don’t need to take it every day. And we’ll see if there’s not something else we can do, too.</p><p>“I’m sure you’re also wondering why I had you drink water before you came here. First, I need you take this Veritaserum-” she handed over the tiniest vial of clear liquid- it looked like it only held a drop or two within, “and after you take it and answer a preliminary question, I’ll need to exert external pressure on your bladder-”</p><p>“Why?” Hermione asked defensively, instinctively recoiling. That seemed rather invasive and cruel, and <em> why hadn't Narcissa let her know? </em> Her mind answered for her: <em> because you wouldn't have bleeding well come here if you </em> knew<em>, and she's a </em>Slytherin. Hell, Andromeda was as well.</p><p>Andromeda grimaced. “I'm sorry, but I need to verify one small thing for your case documentation: if<em> you </em>feel any pressure or not. This will corroborate or contradict the parchment’s findings. The Veritaserum will only last a few minutes- a specialised version made for the hospital, and my memory will be used to present your answer. A spell will be applied to the memory that will completely disguise your voice and cloud it in impenetrable fog that will also hide your identity, both of which are irreversible. Do you consent?”</p><p>“Well, yes, if you’ll get it over with quickly,” she muttered, downing the vial and opening the front of her robe, lifting her blouse slightly. After answering her first question that she didn’t feel like she needed to use the toilet, she sat up straight at Andromeda’s instructions and looked directly ahead of her, thinking about advanced transfigurations as the older witch cast a wordless spell that pressed lightly over her bladder in three places, asking if she felt any urge, then upon receiving a negative answer, immediately increased the applied yet invisible pressure for one more round. She was almost missing Muggle doctors at this point, though seeing them was out of the question.</p><p>“Did you feel anything?” Andromeda quietly asked, peering into Hermione’s eyes.</p><p>She shook her head. “No, nothing at all. Like I’ve had nothing to drink.”</p><p>She heard Narcissa click her tongue against the roof of her mouth from somewhere behind her, to the right. “Andy, get on with it so she can use the facilities.” She sounded dangerously impatient.</p><p>“Miss Granger, as you know, you had a glass of water before arriving here. My diagnostics,” here she summoned a piece of parchment that showed her bladder and its current volume versus calculated max capacity. It was… “As you see here, they illustrate that you should feel a need to void. But you’ve verified that you don’t- either internally or from external pressure, which points to nerve damage. That is certifiable proof that’s needed to obtain funding for research on creating a much more effective potion for your usage, and anyone else who may acquire this same condition in the future...”</p><p>Hermione reddened. She remembered how she<em> used </em> to feel if she waited too long to relieve herself. A remarkable sense of fullness, some measure of aching, and desperation to find the nearest toilet at Hogwarts because yet <em> again </em>she’d gotten completely preoccupied with studying in the library and completely neglected her physical needs. She heard Narcissa swiftly stand up and felt a firm hand wrap around her arm.</p><p>“Loo, <em> now</em>, Hermione,” the older witch ordered, swiping a container off Andromeda’s desk and briskly guiding her out of the exam room and down the hall a short distance to the nearest woman’s single toilet. With her hand on Hermione’s back, she placed the container in her hand and quickly said, “Fill this to the line for Andy,” before pushing Hermione inside the small room.</p><p>After swiftly locking the door and making it to the toilet- uncapping the container and filling it while she still had her mind about her, she wanted to hit something to vent her frustrations. But all she could do was murmur swears over and over inside her head, because Narcissa was out there. Waiting. So, she did what was asked of her, sealing the cap on after reaching the line.</p><p>Once she finished and flushed the toilet, she took a few shaky steps over to the sink. Settling the container in one of her robe pockets, she then stared at herself in the mirror and mindlessly began to wash her hands, and was only shaken out of her apparent stupor by a few knocks on the door before it cracked open, revealing one blue eye peeking in, meeting her reflection in the mirror.</p><p>“It’s been over five minutes,” Narcissa said, stepping inside and shutting the door behind her. “I apologise for intruding, but I… Hermione, why are you crying?” She watched as the other woman looked at the floor around them, spotting, <em> oh</em>, of course she hadn’t the mind to vanish the bit of urine that had leaked onto the floor before she could sit on the toilet. But that surely wasn’t why-</p><p>She was... <em> crying</em>? </p><p>She’d been looking at herself in the mirror, but not comprehending until now- the red-rimmed eyes, tears still falling down her cheeks. Definitely crying, but she had clearly dissociated and not realised it. Someone was saying something- Hermione forced herself back into the present again and heard a woman. Narcissa Malfoy. Why was she here again, in the single capacity loo? What was-</p><p>“-it’s all right, Hermione. You have the container, correct?”</p><p>What container? Her jaw went slack, and she tried to remember. Why couldn’t she remember? Her eyes glazed over and she wanted to forget everything. She wanted her mum and dad. The simplicity of early second year with Harry and Ron, before the Chamber of Secrets had been opened.</p><p>Again, the same voice, and now a hand upon her shoulder- “Hermione, darling, please say something. Andy needs us back soon. Do you have the container?” This time, the physical contact drew her back and she remembered, reaching down and withdrawing the container from her pocket, dipping her head in some semblance of a nod. Gods, all of the embarrassment flew back at once, and she deposited the container back into her robes, fighting back the hitch in her throat that threatened to turn into a sob.</p><p>She let Narcissa envelop warm arms around her waist, let equally warm words wrap themselves around her mind, fissured by the events of the past two plus days. Eventually, her own words found place again in the physical realm, and she confessed, “This is rather embarrassing. Also, your sister is an arse.”</p><p>A soft, tinkling laughter burst forth against her neck, but she couldn’t find herself judging it as laughter <em> at </em>her. Simply at the situation they had found themselves in. Hermione sighed and rubbed at her temples, then nearly jumped at the warm breath against her ear, Narcissa’s arms tightening around her.</p><p>“My sister <em> is </em>an ‘arse,’ as you so put it, but sometimes Healers have to take on such a role, whether they like it or not. And of course this situation is embarrassing, but like the Gryffindor you are, you have handled it splendidly.”</p><p>Hermione couldn’t help but chuckle at the conclusion Narcissa had made. “Dissociating <em> cannot </em>equate to handling this splendidly.”</p><p>“You chose to come in the first place, to my sister of all people, and held yourself together far longer than many others would have. No one can fault you for taking a moment of privacy to… let go.”</p><p>She snickered at the way Narcissa had phrased it. “Let go? More like fall apart. But…” her words faltered, and she should be shrugging the older woman off by now, but she… was immensely comforted by her physical presence enshrouding her. Which was as terrifying as it was soothing.</p><p>“But?” Narcissa prodded, releasing her arms and stepping back towards the door.</p><p>“<em>But</em>, thank you for keeping all of this in strict confidence. You know you could have gone to the Daily Prophet about it? And to think, trustworthy Slytherins <em> do </em> exist.” She shut the water off, dried her hands, and turned towards the older witch with a smirk tugging at her lips. Which would, of course, look so odd on a face with red-rimmed eyes and tear tracks.</p><p>She watched in interest as Narcissa started giggling at the sight. This was all so very strange, but then again, she had lived <em> strange </em>year after year after entering this magical world. With a slight exasperated huff, Hermione went to open the door and return to Andromeda, but Narcissa tugged on the fabric of her hospital robes.</p><p>“Please forgive me, I seem to have lost my composure for a moment.”</p><p>With a slightly raised brow, Hermione nodded, waiting. Narcissa let go of her robes. “Thank you for extending your trust to me. Despite that, I have been sorely remiss in neglecting to suggest taking a witch’s word with you like you did with Mrs. Delacour-Weasley. It is only fair that I do the same.”</p><p>“No,” and even she was surprised at how easily the answer came to her. She held a hand up as Narcissa opened her mouth, quite clearly about to question why. Unconsciously grinding her teeth, she continued, “You’ve already entered into one magical contract with me, I am <em> not </em>getting into another. And like I said, I already believe you’re trustworthy. It’s up to you to keep proving it to me on your own volition.”</p><p>Something indescribable shone in Narcissa's eyes, and thankfully the older witch relented.</p><p>“Now,” she looked to check that Narcissa had vanished the urine, then down at her hospital robes, “let’s get back so I can change out of this.”</p><p>Once they got back to Andy's office, she didn’t explicitly feel anyone’s eyes on her as she pulled her regular clothing back on, the container now resting on Andy’s desk after she had taken it from her and promised an owl with detailed results as soon as she could get them. She merely heard the muffled voices of the two Black sisters talking quietly to each other, sitting in chairs a little ways away, but she still found herself flushing. Narcissa was being far too kind, far too warm, almost as if she was also trying to make up for how cold and indifferent she could be during the visits to Bellatrix. She wanted to tell her she didn’t<em> have </em> to act this way, she <em> knew </em>that it was all an act when they were in Bellatrix’s company, however well-put on it was.</p><p>But she also couldn’t help but enjoy this increasingly sweet side to Narcissa Malfoy, despite the confusion and odd feelings it created in her.</p><p>She zipped her trousers up, buttoned them, and pulled her <a id="return1" name="return1"></a>knee-high boots<sup>[<a href="#note1">1</a>]</sup> on over her trousers- utilising her wand to tie the long strings. At least after the embarrassment of today, which she’d <em> known </em>would happen- it was a given considering the nature of the problem- they’d go back to how things were: Thursday visits with the bane of her life, letters sent back and forth, and the slim possibility that in meeting with the Malfoys’ son at some point again, she might have to see Narcissa there as well. As for seeing Andromeda again in a casual setting, well, she’d cross that bridge when it came. It hadn’t been the easiest thing to go through, but she had gotten through it.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Back on Fleur’s potion (newly strengthened a bit by Narcissa and her colleagues' work so that it lasted two days now) and inside the newly restored Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes a week later, Hermione hadn’t felt more at home or more returned to some semblance of “normal.” Browsing with Ginny and Luna while Ron and Harry spent time with George, she nearly felt like she was back in her sixth year. Except that Fred... wasn’t here, but she wouldn’t let herself dwell on it. She wouldn’t make the Weasleys notice his absence any more than they usually did, which was already all the time, but she didn’t want to make it<em> worse</em>.</p><p>She noticed that the Loonar Loop Luminators were still out of stock. George appeared around the shelving unit, grinning down at her. “Ever since Voldy went moldy and kicked the rubbish bin proper, we haven’t been able to keep<em> any </em>of the celebratory stock in for more than a day or two, Hermione! It’s brilliant, it is, amazing for business.”</p><p>“When do you think you’ll get more in?” she asked, pointedly ignoring George’s use of the plural<em> we</em>. He flourished his wand flamboyantly and bowed towards her, extending a box of the fireworks. </p><p>“It just so happens to be your lucky day, Hermione Granger,” George said, rising back up as she took the box from him. “On the house. Just use them well, won't you?” Before she could answer him, he winked and skipped back toward the registers where Ron and Harry were putting Out to Lunch Fake Mustaches on each other, roaring with laughter at the facial hair that suddenly sprouted on themselves. She loved the both of them, but Merlin, they could grow their <em> own </em>facial hair if they wanted. Not anywhere near as quickly, but.</p><p>Finding Luna and Ginny together in an alcove on the second floor, she settled next to the blonde and peered over her shoulder at the Weather in a Bottle she was focused on. She’d uncorked the bottle and a small snowstorm surrounded a several centimeter area around it, layering the cushion it was settled on in pure white snow. A snowman popped up once enough of the white stuff had coated the fabric, and he even put his own buttons on, as well as his carrot nose and fancy top hat.</p><p>“It’s wonderful, isn’t it, Hermione?” Luna said, turning to look at her. Hermione, breath catching in her throat at the other girl’s pale blue eyes, drew back so their faces were further apart and replied in the affirmative.</p><p>Ginny looked over at the small snowstorm and smiled, though it was tinged with a hint of melancholy. “Fred simply <em> adored </em> this one, he messed around for hours at night in the Burrow adding the spell that balanced out the likelihood you’d get the same weather phenomenon twice. Put the cap back on, Luna, will you? And take it off again?”</p><p>Silently, Luna did as Ginny asked, then uncorked the bottle again. This time, the beginnings of a tornado emerged from the bottle until it freed itself, roaming all over the pillow, eventually spurning lightning and harsh rain as well. Maybe even some tiny bits of hail if she was perceiving it right.</p><p>“How splendid,” Luna quietly remarked, and Hermione had to agree.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>When a large, somewhat thick envelope landed on the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place, Hermione was overjoyed to have<em> something </em> distract her from the way her chest still every so often strangely ached, as if she was supposed to be <em> mates </em> with Black - the sheer ludicrousness of it made her want to vomit. Yet still, it was as if she couldn’t completely forget about Black even though she’d like nothing more than that, and the <em> mudblood </em>scar on her forearm now burned somewhat pleasantly in sharp contrast to how she’d felt as the dark witch carved the word into her over three months ago.</p><p>She opened the envelope and a stack of parchment, about twenty pages, fluttered to rest on the table while a letter unfolded itself, floating in the air for her to read.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Hermione, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> As you may guess before this letter has a chance to unfold, this parchment packet serves as an introduction to the BSRA, courtesy of Draco. He, along with one other pure-blood and two Muggle-borns who survived the war, have worked together to create it. It outlines three initiatives: a Wizarding World course (companion to Muggle Studies), a complete overhaul of the Muggle Studies course with input from Muggle-borns, and the start of a blood diversity/sensitivity curricula to be implemented at both Hogwarts and within the greater British wizarding society. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I am not sure if Andy has contacted you yet, or if you’ve been in touch with her, but she has let me know on our tea break at St. Mungo’s that they have started in earnest on your case. I cannot go near it, but rest assured that you are known only as “Anonymous Cruciatus Curse Victim.” Any and all identifying data stays with Andy, and if she dares to try and speak your name in relation, her tongue will tie up. Patient-Healer confidentiality, that is. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> You mentioned in your last letter that you’re experiencing the blood bond more strongly now. Bella is as well. We are still working on creating something to suppress these types of effects, and unsurprisingly, Bella is driving me </em> mad <em> about it. Please bear with us. </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> I will see you tomorrow. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Fondly, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Narcissa </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Despite herself, Hermione giggled at the ‘Bella is driving me mad’ bit, because the way she’d scribbled that differently than everything else, it was <em> definitely </em> a line she’d written and said countless times in the past. Rushed and harshly written, yet still with a hint of sisterly love. She could practically see Narcissa rolling her eyes which made her laugh even <em> more</em>.</p><p>“What’s got you looking like that?” she heard Harry’s familiar voice. He smirked at her as their eyes met. “Does Ron have some competition?”</p><p>Hermione blanched. “No, no! Only a letter from a, from a friend, I suppose. I was amused by the way she wrote something.” She folded the letter up as he levitated his outer cape and Auror cloak to rest on a wall hanger by the kitchen sink. Gods, if she was going to act like this around Harry from a mere line in a <em> letter</em>, she was thankful that none of the papers had seen her and Narcissa, despite what she’d said about not caring. Harry knew that Narcissa was accompanying her to Hogwarts for the visits with Bellatrix, so she should have just <em> told </em>him who this friend was, but... oh, Merlin, she didn't know. They didn’t typically talk about things like that.</p><p>“Hm, all right,” her messy black-haired friend said, sinking into a chair beside her. “And what’s all this?” He poked at the parchment packet with his finger, tentatively flipping a corner up before releasing it, his green eyes traveling up to meet her brown.</p><p>“It’s from Draco Malfoy. I suppose you know about the BSRA?”</p><p>The young man looked away for a moment, adjusting the glasses on his nose, then looked back, eyes alight in recognition. “Ah, right! The Blood Status Reparation Alliance?” At her nod, he grinned and continued, “I’ve heard about it and know he’s the pure-blood co-head, part of his reparations, and people have been asking me to ask you if you’d like to be the Muggle-born co-head.”</p><p>“Why haven’t you brought it up to me?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.</p><p>He rubbed at the nape of his neck, a slight flush colouring his cheeks, “I, er, didn’t want to, y’know, make you feel like you<em> had </em>to do it. And sometimes you- oh, don’t give me that look, Hermione! You have a bad habit of overloading yourself, and you’ve deserved a break, especially considering the whole... Black situation.”</p><p>
  <em> You’ve deserved a break. </em>
</p><p>Unbidden tears came to her eyes and with a small sniffle, she drew her best friend into a bone-crushing embrace. “Godric’s graces,” she whispered, rubbing at Harry’s back, “I love you so bloody much, Harry, you know that?”</p><p>She heard him chuckle, his breath ghosting against the back of her neck.</p><p>“Love you, too, Hermione.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup>1</sup><a href="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0169/3106/1814/products/5d40f404b031812813dae755-original_1200x1200.jpg?v=1575525802">these</a> are the type of boots i imagine people wearing in the wizarding world, and what i picture hermione wearing. she has a few different colors tho for different outfits.<sup>[<a href="#return1">return to text</a>]</sup></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>narcissa contends with creating a suppressant, bellatrix touches one of narcissa's nerves that she most decidedly should not have, hermione engages in muggle habits, and narcissa remembers a visit to her husband in azkaban.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you all again for reading- a bit "late" on posting this one as i rewrote part of the vaguely named "muggle habits" section over the past two days, because the original felt off/was just not working for me. i do have some more chapters in the backlog (though will likely be rewriting parts of them as well), but at some point i'll be switching to a less regular update schedule. <b>note:</b> no beta on this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her patience was wearing thin. Weekends were spent researching into the Black family blood bond that Bellatrix had cursed herself and Hermione Granger with. She had attempted four different experimental suppressant potions so far in the manor’s laboratory, testing them on dummies that Minerva had specifically transfigured for her. Though it had made her sick to her stomach to even do such a thing to something that wasn’t nor would ever <em> be </em> fully human, she had to- Narcissa had taken her sister’s cursed blade, the same one used on Hermione, and had one dummy mark the other in the same fashion Bellatrix had to the Muggle-born witch.</p><p>In all but lacking a soul, the dummies were as close to mages as possible. They felt pain, they had blood- the same types as Hermione's and Bellatrix’s- coursing through their bodies thanks to classified donations from the Ministry, courtesy of Minister Shacklebolt. They had charmed <em> intent </em> through the application of runic markings, most importantly- without which, none of her experimentation would be possible, because the blade had to <em> feel </em> intent for it to work.</p><p>Each time she supplied a suppressant potion to the dummies, disastrous results occurred within a week and a half at most.</p><p>One time, if it could be said about things that weren’t <em> truly </em> alive in the first place, they even <em> died</em>.</p><p>Narcissa took to expressing her anger out on the manor’s wretched gardens- the blasted peacocks long gone, and if Draco ever noticed the results of her frustrations on his visits, he didn’t say a word. She had to stay at the manor due to her marriage vows, because the Lord of the property was in Azkaban yet again, but it didn’t mean she had to treat it and its surroundings lovingly. She had her father to thank for any part of the vows that benefited herself. He had at least cared for her that much, even if he had been silently complicit in other matters.</p><p>Unfortunately, his silent complicity had been passed down, and she thought of herself again, watching and doing nothing as Hermione was tortured.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>The foreign, clenching ache in Hermione’s chest diminished once she and Narcissa arrived at Hogwarts, and she told as much to McGonagall and Narcissa as they sat in front of the Headmistress’s desk. The professor said that they had surmised that being in closer proximity to Bellatrix would have a positive effect on the bond’s magic, and an even stronger effect through interactions- this happening to her was all the verifiable proof they needed.</p><p>“So, what?” Hermione asked, a flash of anger in her voice. “Does this mean eventually I’ll have to bloody<em> live </em> with her to feel all right? Have you… have either of you found something, <em> anything </em>that I can take that could help-” she pressed the palm of her hand against her chest, “suppress this? If it’s like this now, I can only imagine it’ll…” she trailed off, sighing in frustration.</p><p>Narcissa finally spoke up. “As I said in my letter, please try and bear with us, Hermione. We’re doing everything we can, but Black family curses and blood bonds are nothing so simple.” Hermione jerked her head towards the Narcissa and nearly wanted to tell her that she wasn’t an<em> imbecile</em>, she <em> knew </em>what they were up against here, but one look at Narcissa’s eyes and her biting words easily passed away, never to come to fruition- something that never happened with Ron. He would have kept egging her on, trying to get a reaction out of her, she trying to one-up him- but Narcissa… she could tell that she wasn’t trying to do that. She was simply stating the truth- it was plain in her honest, searching gaze.</p><p>And it was at that moment that she reflected on how Ron’s eyes were a darker blue, like a stormy ocean; Narcissa’s, though, they were like glaciers. Either could look the picture of righteous anger, indifference, and both had proven to show incredible warmth and care (thought a part of her kept insisting that Narcissa's had proven so much more), so why was her throat only feeling so parched now, when it never quite had with Ron? She shook the errant thoughts from her head, shoving them off to ruminate on at a later time, like she had been for weeks now when it came to these odd thoughts concerning Narcissa Malfoy.</p><p>Instead, she said, her voice a tad hoarse, “I… I understand. I know I can deal with this as I’ve dealt with <em> worse</em>, it’s just… not pleasurable. If there’s anything I can do to help you, please let me know. After all, term doesn’t begin until September. And even after-”</p><p>“Ah, so you<em> are </em> coming back for a delayed seventh year, Miss Granger?” the Headmistress asked, a kind sparkle in her emerald eyes. She knew that McGonagall had wanted her to come back, and she <em> had </em> terribly missed the comfort and routine of the Hogwarts school year (excluding death defying adventures). But even if she hadn’t been part of the so-called “Golden Trio,” she wouldn’t have been able to attend the previous year, based solely on the fact that she was Muggle-born. She still felt enraged on the behalf of other Muggle-borns who had missed out on an <em> entire </em>school year at Hogwarts simply because of their blood status, though like herself, they were lucky to still be alive.</p><p>“Of course. I want to finish school properly and complete my N.E.W.T.s. Will you be teaching Transfiguration or finding a new professor, Headmistress?”</p><p>McGonagall sat back in her seat and said, “I may need to teach for the first few weeks, if we cannot find someone suitable before the start of term. Someone who can take over as Head of Gryffindor as well, because I cannot be Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor simultaneously.”</p><p>“It is <em> terribly </em> unfortunate that I am a Slytherin, then,” Narcissa drawled with a small teasing smile.</p><p>Hermione hid her grin behind the palm of her hand- she did <em> not </em>need to start imagining Narcissa Malfoy as a professor of all things.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>When they walked into the Room of Requirement, Bellatrix was already waiting for them. She smiled at her younger sister and glared at Hermione, but there was something different in the older woman’s onyx-coloured eyes. Resignation?</p><p>“Granger,” Bellatrix said, her voice half a growl.</p><p>Well. That was certainly new.</p><p>She steeled herself quickly enough, though, and said all she knew to say in response: “Black.” She didn’t feel up to taking her chances with anything more.</p><p>Narcissa had gone to sit in one of the plush seats that lay outside of the shimmering barriers that held Bellatrix. With a slight barking laugh that was so unlike the prim and proper role she typically played, she remarked, “What enriching conversationalists you two are. Bella, I expect better from you, at least. You know how we were schooled on the art of conversation.”</p><p>“With fellow <em> pure-bloods </em> and respectable <em> half-bloods</em>, Cissy!” Bellatrix exclaimed, waving her arms about in exasperation. “Not with… people like <em> her</em>.” She narrowed her eyes towards Hermione.</p><p>“All right, I’ll bite-”</p><p>“<em>Excuse </em>me?” Narcissa and Bellatrix spoke at once.</p><p>Flustered, Hermione put her hands up in mock surrender. “Muggle expression, Muggle expression, for Merlin’s sake! Not<em> literally </em>bite. It means responding to something that may result in a negative consequence, but you do so anyway.”</p><p>Narcissa raised her brow, pursing her lips. “All right then, Miss Granger… <em> bite</em>.” The youngest Black sister’s tone was as icy as ever, no trace of warmth anywhere on her face, so why did she feel flushed? Oh, <em> oh</em>, that was a subtle tug of the blonde’s lips fighting back a smirk. Only a little one. But, <em> oh</em>.</p><p>Turning back to Bellatrix, she<em> bit</em>. “You said people like <em> me</em>, Black. So, did you simply not speak to Muggle-borns when you were in Hogwarts? I can only imagine how lovely it would have been to be in school with you if so, to simply be… ignored.” She grinned devilishly at the black-haired witch, stepping closer, her magic thrumming. She hated it.</p><p>Bellatrix laughed. “No, <em>Granger</em>, I did no such thing. I merely hexed anyone like you that I came across. Made for such a fun pastime, though I’ll admit your lot were good at hiding from me when they knew what was coming if they got in my way.”</p><p>“Ah, so I suppose none were Gryffindors. Can’t imagine any of my <em> lot </em>in my House would so easily stand down from you.” She knew there had to be a challenging glint in her eyes as she saw a sneer on Bellatrix’s face, challenging her right back. She felt warm jolts of something that slightly felt like electricity surging through the magic underneath her skin, like she and Bellatrix were predator and predator circling each other, sizing the other up for dominance. It felt dangerous, it felt exhilarating, and again- she absolutely hated it.</p><p>“You say that now, but what about without this-” she knocked on the barrier, not even wincing at the shock, “barrier here? Hm? Would you be such a <em> brave </em>Gryffindor without the chance of it separating us? I’m not the Dark Lord’s right-hand lieutenant for nothing.”</p><p>“Bella,” Narcissa said, her legs crossed at the knee, languidly rocking her foot back and forth. “You know I can’t let either of you come into mortal harm.” Her blue eyes flashed with a warning. Hermione was simply stuck on Bellatrix speaking as if she was<em> still </em> Riddle’s right-hand lieutenant- the genocidal maniac was <em> dead</em>! How was Bellatrix still-</p><p>“Doesn’t mean I can’t rough the little pet up a bit, though,” Bellatrix quipped, and Narcissa scoffed like she was trying to wrangle an unruly child.</p><p>“So you’re willing to resort to Muggle violence again? You should<em> also </em> do well to remember that <em> if </em>you harm Miss Granger, your holding area will stay as small as it is now, and you will be even further away from getting any of your magic back. You should strive for good behaviour, Bella, and perhaps you will reap some rewards from it.”</p><p>That quieted Bellatrix for a few moments.</p><p>Far too soon, though, she looked at Hermione again and said, “Cissy’s told me you’ve felt these wretched<em> effects </em> as well. I shouldn’t <em> want </em> to see or talk to you or even be <em> near </em> you, but it inexplicably ‘calms’ the ruddy thing. Load of absolute horseshit, I should <em> love </em> to go back in time and murder that arse of a Black who created it.”</p><p>Narcissa tsked at her older sister like a chiding parent. “Now, now, Bella, that might mean we aren’t born. Time-turners are not children’s play.”</p><p>“Hey,” Hermione snarled, “at least you're not the one here who was <em> tortured</em>. In no way should I <em> want </em>to come anywhere near you for the rest of my damned life. But here we are, over three months since the m-manor, and life is absolutely taking the piss out of me.”</p><p>Bellatrix snorted. “Language, pet. Didn’t expect that from you.” The older witch’s eyes flashed again, almost friendly if Hermione could stretch it that far, but she wouldn’t care even if Black <em> was </em> trying to be friendly in some vain attempt to speed up the process. “At least your side won… for now,” she remarked as she went to sit in one of her own chairs inside the barrier.</p><p>Hermione could only grunt at that, her traitorous bond-influenced body inexplicably drawn closer until she sat at the edge of the barrier, crossing her legs. She managed to force a halfway decent conversation about the books Bellatrix was reading, and for some reason the older witch asked her if she could bring a Muggle cooking book back with her the next time they visited.</p><p>“Only because I am being<em> forced </em> to fend for myself and cook the Muggle way once a day, now that they <em> trust </em> me with some cutlery that’s spelled to not harm my own skin,” Bellatrix tried to clarify. “Wizarding cookbooks don’t take manual preparation into account, and the <em> Headmistress </em>doesn’t wish for the house elves here to cook for me three times a day.” Before Hermione could respond, Bellatrix waved her hand dismissively and called out to Narcissa.</p><p>“How did your last visit with Lucius fare, Cissy?” she asked.</p><p>Hermione shifted, turning so she could more easily watch both Black sisters. She moved in time to see Narcissa freeze for all the space of a moment before she relaxed again and answered Bellatrix, both of them acting like she wasn’t present any longer.</p><p>“He still resents his own son for failing to kill Albus Dumbledore, as if Draco doing so would have elevated our name in the Dark Lord’s eyes again. As if it would have <em> somehow </em> managed to not saddle us with the Dark Lord living in the manor. He still doesn’t see that it was only cruel punishment for his failure at the Ministry to obtain the prophecy, nothing more.”</p><p>She wondered if Bellatrix had noticed the slight waver in Narcissa’s voice. Hermione’s chest clenched as if ropes were squeezing the area right behind her breastbone, and she wanted… she wanted to do something, anything, but she <em> couldn’t</em>. Not in front of Bellatrix.</p><p>“...Well, Lucius isn’t exactly <em> wrong</em>, Cissy. If I had sons, I would feel the same way if they failed to carry out the Dark Lord’s mission that was set out for them.”</p><p>The blonde’s eyes flashed dangerously. Oh. <em> Oh</em>, that had been the wrong thing to say.</p><p>Narcissa stood up from her seat and stormed over beside where Hermione was sitting on the floor, jabbing her fingertip at the barrier, hissing and shaking said finger from the resulting shock.</p><p>“Do not<em> dare </em>to bring your mad reasoning of <em>wrong </em>and<em> right </em>into business regarding my <b><em>son</em></b>, Bellatrix! And you- you don’t <em>understand </em>what it’s like to <em>be </em>a mother, so do not presume you know how it would- how it would <em>feel </em>to have your son, your <em>only child</em>, put up for a suicide mission!</p><p>“<em>Any </em>failing, any blight on the Malfoy name is<em> solely </em>on Lucius’s head, and I will not<em> stand </em>for <b><em>anyone </em></b>to saddle my son, my <em>Draco</em>-” here, her voice cracked, “with such a weight, not even my own bloody sister! He’s doing <em>far </em>more now than his father ever did to elevate the Malfoy name.” She heard the pained way Narcissa’s breath caught in her throat. “<em>Damn </em>it, Bella.”</p><p>Hermione dared to look up finally, and her heart shattered at the tears falling freely from Narcissa’s anguished eyes. Her voice had broken several times, but it was her last sentence that fractured it completely, a sob racking through her. Bellatrix, to her credit, looked completely stricken and made a particularly nasty swear at the barrier for existing.</p><p>“Cissy,” she tried to say instead, “the Dark Lord-”</p><p>Narcissa found her voice again between shuddering breaths. “Fuck the <em> Dark Lord</em>, Bella! He’s sodding well <em> dead</em>, and no good came from any of his <em> crusade </em> for any of us. Our families have been <em> ruined </em>because of him! Salazar’s snakes, I-” Narcissa took in Hermione below her for the first time since she’d started yelling, as if noticing her for the first time. “Miss Granger, I need to leave. We’ll need to cut this visit a little short. You did not see this. You will not remember this.”</p><p>All she could do was nod and get to her feet, following Narcissa out of the room. After the double doors shut and disappeared into the wall, effectively banishing Bellatrix from sensing the world outside of the room, Hermione closed the distance between them and took Narcissa into her arms, giving no mind to if it was proper or not.</p><p>“I <em> did </em> see that,” she breathed, not even bothering to mention the false assurance aimed towards Bellatrix that she’d have her memory wiped of the event. “He’s fortunate to have you as his mother.”</p><p>Narcissa cried, her chest heaving as she grasped tightly onto Hermione’s back, her breath warm and heavy against the younger witch’s neck. Hermione ran her fingers up and down Narcissa’s back in a soothing motion, murmuring words of comfort. Their bodies were flush against each other, and all she wanted was to make Narcissa smile again. That was her simple request to any deity out there as she gently, ever so slightly, pulled away from the other woman, taking in Narcissa’s face.</p><p>“How are you beautiful even when you cry?” she uttered, then nearly choked on her tongue as she averted her eyes, because for Merlin’s<em> sake</em>, that wasn’t what she’d meant to say to try and make the other witch smile again! Why in the world had her brain <em> betrayed </em>her like that? But when she met Narcissa's gaze again… perhaps it was all right.</p><p>Because it <em> did </em> make her smile a bit and share a watery laugh with her.</p><p>“Oh, Hermione,” Narcissa said softly, taking one of Hermione’s curls and tucking the hair behind her ear, “We Blacks are beautiful in all situations, but thank you.”</p><p>Hermione’s heart hammered in her chest as she was drawn into another embrace by the older witch.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Kreacher brought two cups of piping hot tea into the drawing room and left the two witches to themselves. Hermione drank some of hers a bit too soon and made a strained noise of pain, to which Narcissa immediately rushed over, and while holding her jaw muttered a spell that instantly healed the slight burn.</p><p>Cheeks blazing from the intimate contact, Hermione rushed to murmur, “I could’ve lived with it.”</p><p>“Nonsense, Hermione, I have magic and I will use it,” the older witch said almost flippantly as she sat back down in her own seat on the sofa.</p><p>“Well… thank you, then,” she relented, blowing on her tea to cool it down.</p><p>Narcissa raised her brow, watching her inquisitively. “You could cool it with a spell.”</p><p>“I <em> could</em>,” Hermione admitted, then blew on the drink again. “But sometimes I still prefer the Muggle way. Forgive me my heritage if you must, <em> Mrs. Malfoy.</em>” At the older woman’s huff, she smiled at her and set the cup down on the table in front of them.</p><p>Narcissa’s next words came quietly, plaintively. “I apologise if I’ve offended you, Hermione.” She met those ice-blue eyes and saw the sincerity in them, and in a flash she moved to sit next to Narcissa on the small sofa, close enough so that their thighs touched.</p><p>Lightly bumping her shoulder against Narcissa’s, she said, “No worries. It’s just…” she gestured to the television in the room. “You see that large grey box with what looks like black semi-reflective glass in the center?”</p><p>Narcissa made a small affirming noise.</p><p>“That’s a television, or telly, a Muggle invention. It’s like what my parents had in our home in Hampstead,” Hermione said, memories washing over her, “And I… missed it? I never thought something like a telly would bring me such comfort, but it has, though it was a headache to get working in a magical household like this. I hold onto a few Muggle things, Muggle habits, because…”</p><p>She sighed, looking anywhere but at the other witch, anxiety prickling at her skin. Narcissa’s hand came to rest on her thigh, drawing her out of her own ruminations about her parents.</p><p>“Is everything all right? … Hermione?” Narcissa asked, then her other hand caught Hermione’s chin, quite obviously trying to get her to face her and catch her eyes. Hermione, however, kept her gaze averted, and Narcissa let go.</p><p>She hadn’t meant to say anything.</p><p>“My parents are in Australia.”</p><p>Her tongue was suddenly out of her control, somehow, and the shock and confusion on Narcissa’s features was palpable when she finally looked back at the other witch.</p><p>“May I ask why? Your tone conveys that it is not a simple holiday they took.”</p><p>Hermione scuffed her boots against the wooden floor and limply shrugged her shoulders, staring into the fireplace. “The war? After my sixth year, I knew it was too dangerous for them, me being who I am, and my connection to Harry Potter. They’re <em> Muggles</em>, they have no sure line of defense against wizards and witches, an <em> Avada Kedavra </em>is decidedly faster than a knife attack.</p><p>“So, that summer… I- I modified their memories of ever having a daughter, put the notion in their head that their- their life’s dream was to move to Brisbane, start a new dental practice there with money they saved up- some of which was originally set aside for my higher education. So- so with that extra money, they had finally made good on making that dream a reality. They’ve been there for a little over a year now, none the wiser that they… they aren’t who they think they are, and that they actually have a daughter.”</p><p>Narcissa blinked as if coming out of a deep daze, and Hermione was grateful that the other witch’s cup of tea was settled on the table a little ways in front of their legs, or else she was sure she would have dropped it. Nothing a quick<em> reparo </em> couldn’t have fixed, but oh. <em> Oh</em>. That look she was giving Hermione. She’d last seen something like it, though not exactly, on Molly Weasley’s face when she’d told her what she had done to Anthony and Jean Granger.</p><p>“You<em> modified </em>your parents’ memories? Did they know beforehand?” she finally asked.</p><p>Hermione grimaced, playing with the fabric of her robes. “Er, no, they… they never would have agreed to it. There’s a reason I’m a Gryffindor, even if they aren’t magical and never went to Hogwarts themselves, they’ve always been… lionhearted, a bit stubborn and hard-headed, like myself, especially my mum. They- they never would have agreed.”</p><p>“That still doesn’t excuse doing that to your own parents with no prior warning or explanation, Hermione!” Narcissa asserted harshly, raising her voice even more towards the end. Hermione flinched away as if slapped, tears springing unbidden to her eyes. She bit back a strangled cry and folded in on herself, unsure what to say.</p><p>
  <em> Anything to make this right.  </em>
</p><p>“I’m sorry, <em>I’m so sorry</em>,” she repeated, then, “I didn’t know who else to turn to! I- I felt the Order already had enough on their plates w-without having to put 24/7 surveillance and p-protection around two Muggles who still had to live their <em>lives </em>normally, and I was s-so scared, I did it because I didn’t want to lose them but I did anyway, I- I miss them so much it’s… it’s…” She finally broke with a sharp sob, her fingernails digging into the fabric of her dark tan trousers. <em>Gods</em>, she hadn't meant to crack and become so emotional over this! Logically she knew her parents were fine, she'd deal with properly restoring their memories later, but it still... it still <em>hurt</em> <em>so much </em>if she allowed herself to think about it like she was now.</p><p>A few beats of silence, a soft intake of breath that wasn’t her own, and a warm weight was at her side again, wrapping her in an embrace. She still cried- she cried and cried and<em> cried </em> until she supposed that she simply ran out of tears <em> to </em>cry. She hadn’t realised how much she’d kept her parents, her emotions about them, bottled up still. She hadn’t even cried like this after telling Molly Weasley. Her face had to be an absolute mess, but when she looked over to her left, she was met with the blonde hair of Narcissa Malfoy, and the sure weight of the other woman still pressed against her, murmuring words of comfort.</p><p>Her voice still rough from crying, she whispered, “N- Narcissa?”</p><p>The older witch withdrew her face from behind Hermione and looked at her. She looked like she had shed a few tears, too. She felt her mouth slide open, amazed that someone would cry for her over something that wasn’t even<em> their </em>problem.</p><p>“I am- I apologise, Hermione, I didn’t mean-”</p><p>“I-it’s all right,” Hermione interjected. “You know… I asked you to stay so we could talk about… him, if you wanted,” she didn’t dare speak his name currently, not sure if that would set Narcissa off, “But I wound up hogging the conversation with all this talk about my- my parents, didn’t I?” She tried to laugh, she did, but it cracked somewhere along the way.</p><p>Narcissa brought a hand up and stroked fingers through her hair; without meaning to, she leaned into her touch. Gods, she’d had her curls stroked before, mostly by Ron once he figured out how much she loved it, but the way Narcissa did it… her boyfriend was leagues behind in his technique, or lack thereof. She bit her lip, cleared her throat, and pulled away before she inadvertently made some obscene sound that would certainly ruin everything.</p><p>“You’re sweet to show concern for Lucius and I’s marital problems,” Narcissa said. “But you don’t need to take on anything else. I <em> do </em>apologise for losing control of my emotions during your visit with Bella today, and afterward- I should have been more composed. Frankly, to make up for it, I will do everything I can to make progress on creating a suitable suppressant for the bond. It is difficult, but-”</p><p>“No, no, <em> no</em>, Narcissa, there is absolutely <em> nothing </em> to make up for,” Hermione vehemently assured before heating their cooled cups of tea. She picked up her own cup after casting and casually levitated the other into Narcissa’s waiting hand. The blonde held the drink in both of her hands and gave a small smile as she lifted it to her lips, sipping at the liquid in such an elegant fashion that gave away her upper class pure-blood background. Hermione didn’t even try to copy Narcissa, but felt she had to be doing something right, because after she set her cup back onto the table, she turned and was met with kind blue eyes as Narcissa tapped on her own cup with her pinky, the glass clinking.</p><p>Hermione turned back to look into the empty fireplace, taking another drink from her tea, relishing the taste. Her emotions from earlier settled now, a part of her knew that Narcissa wouldn’t let the topic of her parents rest, and so she wasn’t shocked when she was asked about her plans regarding them. She merely set her cup back down and fidgeted with her fingernails for a moment before responding.</p><p>“I’m not going back for them until after this business with your sister is over. I don’t want to have to bring them into it, and I don’t… I don’t want them seeing that word on my arm. Ever.” Her right hand impulsively went to rub at the sleeve of her robes that covered the scar. “Also, there’s still Death Eaters out there…”</p><p>Narcissa puffed out a weary breath, “And at least a few would jump at the chance to find and harm them. I… it simply hurt, as a mother, to imagine my own child doing that to me- modifying my memory without consent- but your reaction proves that it is not an action you would take again, or at the very least, you would confer with others first?”</p><p>Hermione nodded.</p><p>“I… have to also admit that it shows a great deal of love and bravery on your part. And auspicious foresight.”</p><p>“What do you mean, ‘auspicious foresight’?” Hermione asked, turning to look at Narcissa’s profile, though the dread forming against her magic pulsated ever quicker as the pieces connected. She… she didn’t want to assume. She had always hoped she had done it for nothing, that her parents would have always been safe even if she <em> hadn’t </em>done what she did. That she’d merely been overly paranoid and protective.</p><p>The blonde didn’t turn to look at her; she watched as Narcissa’s eyes squeezed shut and a slight bob of her throat betrayed a harsh swallow. Quietly, such as so if they weren’t in Grimmauld Place alone, Hermione would have had to lean right up against the other witch to hear her at all, Narcissa confessed, “In October of last year, a few Death Eaters were… dispatched, to your home, to- to take care of your parents. The Dar- <em> Riddle</em>, planned to use their deaths to lure at least one of you out of hiding. One of the boys, most likely… with the intel he had, he was certain you would follow those boys to protect them, and…”</p><p>“He was right,” Hermione rasped, but willed herself not to break down again. Her parents were safe. They had won. Harry and Ron were alive. “I- I’ve been watching after those two for years, it’s like… like second-nature to me, to go after them when they’re…” she chuckled, trying to ignore how watery it sounded, “too reckless for their own good. Shite, at least I…” she trailed off, standing and gathering their tea cups, but not before checking that at least Narcissa’s was empty. She could simply banish them to the kitchen sink, but she needed to move. Needed to not sit still any longer.</p><p>She walked out of the drawing room and down to the kitchen, focusing on the steady sound of her footsteps. Once she reached the sink, she laid the cups in it and manually turned on the faucet, concentrating on the slight burning sensation from almost hot water pouring over her bare skin. She didn’t move to start washing the cups, and only drew herself away from the edge after noticing that her eyes were starting to de-focus again. Shaking her head, she turned the faucet off, calmed her breathing, and turned sharply- only to collide right into Narcissa as she was in the middle of a step towards her, sending them both onto the wooden floor as Narcissa clutched to the front of her robes. She just did manage to cast a wandless cushioning charm to spare Narcissa from another painful collision.</p><p>“Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry,” Hermione started, pulling herself off the other woman, the palms of her hands flat on either side of Narcissa’s arms as they made eye contact. Narcissa didn’t say anything, and Hermione, wetting her lips, continued, “I- I should have sensed you there, I’m normally much better at knowing my surroundings-”</p><p>“<em>Hermione</em>,” Narcissa said, her voice tight, and it was only as the older woman bit down on her lip, as she felt something press back against a part of her, that Hermione became aware of where her right knee was located. In her scramble that had left her not <em> entirely </em> off the other witch, her left knee had ended up next to Narcissa’s outer thigh, but her right was… in between the legs beneath her, and oh- <em> oh </em> shite, she jerked her knee up and away from where it had been pressed up against Narcissa’s centre- she hadn’t even <em> noticed</em> what she'd been leaning into, putting pressure on for further balance.</p><p>Scrambling up the rest of the way, she extended her hand to Narcissa, who… fortunately, still took it. She didn’t know if she should apologise for this as well, or rather <em> how </em>to apologise without being crude, but it seemed Narcissa was quite fine to let it go. She merely dusted her robes off with her hands and while doing so, looked back up and assured, “Do not trouble yourself, Miss Granger. I should have announced myself. You were rightly in a state of upset that I unfortunately exacerbated. Will you- do you need a calming draught before I leave you?”</p><p>“Better safe than sorry,” she mumbled, lifting her wand to cast for a vial of the potion, but Narcissa reached for her forearm and lowered it.</p><p>“Let me, it is the least I can do.” Hermione shrugged and only said the direction it would come from. When a vial landed in Narcissa’s hands, she unstoppered it and passed it over to Hermione, their fingers grazing in the exchange. Lifting the vial up in a mock toast, she slammed it back, greedily gulping for relief. A shiver coursed through her as the potion did its job, and a sense of, well, <em> calm </em> pervaded her.</p><p>Running her fingers through her hair, she led the way back up to the drawing room, watching as Narcissa held her gaze for what was probably a moment too long. But she didn’t have it in her to feel concerned or strange about it- side-effects of the draught. If she hadn’t the potion in her, she would have noticed that something was decidedly <em> off </em>about the other witch. As it stood, though, it would be another several hours before she realised, and it would be several hours too late to do anything remotely about it.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>The nightmares she’d had about Hermione Granger’s torture, the <em> additions </em> to those nightmares based on what she’d learned of the consequences the young woman suffered because of it… she still brewed low doses of Dreamless Sleep for herself, but they had not plagued her like they used to. Not since she’d had that lunch with the other witch, seen that perhaps- perhaps things <em> would </em>get better with time and effort. That though Hermione had suffered, she wasn’t going to let it define her.</p><p>And yet today, she had learned of another way the war had forced the young Muggle-born to suffer something unfathomable: her parents’ memories altered by her own magic, sent to a distant foreign country. To protect them. To try and save their lives from bigotry turned genocidal. The witch was perceptive, and Narcissa’s slip had turned into a confession, one that she had held close to her chest for some time now, unsure if or when she should share it- but Hermione deserved to know that though it was a heart-rending choice she made, and perhaps not the absolute best way to go about it, it <em> had </em> saved her parents’ lives. Without the younger witch’s foresight, Mr. and Mrs. Granger would have been murdered for the so-called “crime” of simply <em> existing </em>without magic.</p><p>She nearly missed the counter-clockwise stir after five stirs clockwise, something she <em> knew </em>was needed. Or at least, she felt it in her magic, and it had never been wrong in her life- it was her mind that had betrayed her, wronged her, filled her with fear throughout her life. A mind molded by pure-blood supremacy and culture, a mind still somewhat affected by it despite her efforts over decades to dispatch it all as the utter bollocks it was.</p><p>She had to allow the potion to sit for fifteen minutes. After setting a timer with her wand and quickly removing her robes to leave herself in the blouse and tightly-fit trousers underneath, Narcissa wiped her forehead of the sweat that had accumulated due to the flames beneath the cauldron. The strenuous work had done its job of redirecting her thoughts from what had happened before she’d made her leave earlier, but without the potion-making to occupy her thoughts, she found herself… distracted, again.</p><p>Hermione clearly hadn’t meant to put her knee up against her centre, but she had, and it had apparently been so long since anything but her own fingers had been there that she had… reacted. It hadn’t helped that the younger witch had apparently seen fit to lean forward on that knee to balance herself, putting increased pressure on her. She'd strained to say Hermione's name before biting down on her lip and pushing back against the knee, but that had only caused more friction against her clothed sex, making it <em>worse</em> until finally Hermione had jostled her one last time as she had finally removed herself. She needed to take care of her own needs more- perhaps if she did, she wouldn’t have reacted so strongly to something accidental. At least the brewing had rid herself of her arousal without needing to take care of it, but she- she needed to do something else, <em> anything </em> else, because remembering the sensation- <em> shite</em>, it had felt so good. And she hadn’t felt anything like it, accidental or not, in ages from her own husband, who was definitely the one she was going to think about later. He had to be.</p><p>Despite the fact that she had very little to draw from in recent memory with him. She'd been the one to offer affections to him, in actions and in word, even as Tom Riddle had announced that he was taking her husband's wand. That light touch to his thigh, comforting him. She didn't know why she had; they had ceased the majority of even their public affections towards each other by then, but perhaps it was the effects of years of camaraderie still pulling at her, as if strings on a well-worn puppet. But those strings had effectively thinned after the war, and snapped entirely after her visits to him in Azkaban showed her how far he had fallen.</p><p>
  <em> "Malfoy, your wife's here to see you," the Auror guard on shift had announced in his gruff voice. Lucius had stood in his cell, backing up to the farthest wall as they let her in. </em>
</p><p><em> The first time she saw him in early June- three weeks after his trial, his appearance had shocked her; afterward, she had become wearily used to it. Matted hair, losing weight, sunken eyes, even though there were no Dementors about. He took no </em> pride <em> in himself now that he couldn’t use any of his former riches or guile to get himself out of Azkaban- he was no more special than the poorest criminal held in the same prison. Lucius was simply a shell, a mockery of the Malfoy name he so spouted that his </em> son <em> was continuing to tarnish instead of placing the blame rightly on himself and his own choices. </em></p><p>
  <em> "You've got twenty minutes as usual, Mrs. Malfoy," the Auror told her. "I'll be just outside if you need a thing. Call and I'll hear." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Narcissa..." Lucius had started once the Auror was gone, walking towards her with arms slightly outstretched. </em>
</p><p><em> She raised a palm out towards him, holding him at arm's length, wishing they hadn't taken her wand away for the visit, albeit knowing it was for good reason. "You will </em> not <em> touch my body until you wash at some point." </em></p><p><em> "What's the sodding point when my </em> son <em> is out there sullying the Malfoy name?" He hadn't even tried to hide the venom in his voice, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I don't know what's gotten into you to let him walk around leading some blasted 'blood status reparations' shite. You don't know the half of what I hear from these guards, as if they're almost </em> proud <em> of him while they look down on </em> me. <em> I’m still Lord Malfoy, whether anyone likes it or-" </em></p><p><em> She heard the slap before she realised it had come from her own hand. Narcissa had struck her husband's cheek like... like some </em> animal. <em> Face pale, she backed away from him, noting the ire in his grey eyes as he cradled his own reddened cheek in one of his hands. </em></p><p>
  <em> "How dare you raise a hand against your husband!" he shouted. </em>
</p><p><em> "How dare you speak of your only son- your only </em> child<em>, in such a callous way, Lucius Malfoy!" </em></p><p>
  <em> Oh, how she didn't give one bloody shit that the Aurors must be able to hear them by now, the way they were hosting their own shouting match. He had gotten into her space, grabbing hold of her chin with such brute, rough force that she was pulled forward, nearly gagging at how horrid his breath smelled. </em>
</p><p><em> She glared at him, keeping all other emotions at bay save for her absolute anger- she had </em> told <em> him to not touch her- and swiftly kneed him in the bollocks. As a child, she was taught that a woman of her station was “above such crude retaliation unless towards a man of lower station,” which Lucius decidedly was now. After calling out for the Auror, she turned away as Lucius dealt with the blow without his magic. The wizard came back in as her husband got back up to his feet, then restrained him against the far wall and let her out of the cell. </em></p><p>All of their visits were ending in such a manner, even if they somehow <em> could </em> manage ten or so minutes of decency. If other pure-bloods could only <em> see </em> them now. Hell, if the Aurors working at Azkaban weren't sworn to secrecy, the Daily Prophet would have not merely a <em> day </em> with exposing their family affairs, but a whole damned <em> month </em> or more. Even now, if she thought on it hard enough, she could imagine Lucius's rough hands still on her. She didn't know why she kept going back, besides a frail attempt to keep up appearances as “the Malfoy matriarch.”</p><p>
  <em> "… don’t do it in some attempt to save my reputation. I couldn't care less about that rubbish now." </em>
</p><p>Hermione's words rang out in her mind again. How that young woman couldn't care about damages to her reputation... Narcissa envied her, wished she could be more like her in that respect, almost found herself wanting to <em> try</em>. And, if she wasn't trying to fool herself, she wished she could be more like her in many other respects as well. The direction things were seemingly pointing towards frightened her as much as it had kindled some low flame within herself that she thought she’d lost completely. Andy saw it as it already was, however much she wanted to keep on trying to deny it.</p><p>She cared and felt things for Hermione in ways she still couldn't quite allow herself to comprehend, let alone fully accept. And the Muggle-born witch was making it more and more difficult for her to keep her sentiments at bay. She needed to distance herself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>harry has his eighteenth birthday party, hermione gets her st. mungo's results back, narcissa does her best to keep up her distance, the blood bond digs its claws in further, and narcissa talks to andy about the suppressant.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this was a hard chapter to wrangle with, but after several times re-reading and self-editing I figure it's best to not mess with it anymore and shove it on out here. still un-beta'ed unless I ever make note of a beta in the future.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It appeared that the weather had conspired with Narcissa Malfoy: both had been unusually chilly during July 1998, though Narcissa had only caught on mid-way through the month. Her letters lacked the usual warmth Hermione had grown accustomed to, and though she still called her by her given name most of the time, she had reverted to some sort of tremulous acquaintanceship. Even the smallest of touches, such as hands to arms and shoulders, disappeared. She didn’t shake Hermione off if she started the contact, but after sensing the other woman’s apparent discomfort, she stopped. She was never one to engage another in unwelcome physical contact, but Merlin did it take all of her self-restraint to not simply corner the woman and ask her what in the world was going on, and if it was about what had happened at Grimmauld Place. But she told herself that she was more mature than that, even if it still left her between a state of frustration and anxiety.</p><p>Harry’s eighteenth birthday at the end of the month was a much needed and welcome distraction, at least.</p><p>The Weasleys had gone all out for their essentially (in all but name and legality) adopted son, and Hermione knew as well as everyone else, that someday- hopefully sooner rather than later- a certain Potter would come to his senses and ask the youngest Weasley to marry him. Or perhaps, some people whispered, that Ginny would ask Harry instead. It would be like the fiery red-headed woman, but a memory from June reminded her that Ginny enjoyed being the one pursued over acting the pursuer sometimes.</p><p>
  <em> “It’d be too much like how we started, y’know? Ickle first year me, pining after the Boy-Who-Lived. Merlin, I was such an embarrassment,” Ginny had said to her. </em>
</p><p><em> Hermione giggled, half herself, half from the bit of firewhisky she'd allowed herself as they sat in her bedroom at Grimmauld Place. “We were </em> all <em> embarrassments back then- we were </em> babies<em>, Ginny! Harry was so oblivious for the longest time.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “So were you and Ron, and don’t give me that look! You were!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shoved at Ginny, but of course she wasn’t physically stronger than Gryffindor’s star Quidditch player, now that Harry wasn’t going back to Hogwarts. Ginny shoved her back onto her own bed and they wound up in a tickle fight until Hermione screamed, still uncontrollably laughing, “Get off, get off! You’re gonna make me wee myself, Gin!” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ginny had relented, and the strong tug on her magic disappeared after she made a quick visit to the loo. When she returned, Ginny was pink in the face, still giggling. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You’re an absolute terror, Ginny Weasley,” she’d said, arms folded over her chest, but grinning over at her good-naturedly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Ginny had raised her hands in mock surrender, though her smirk was absolutely wicked. “And it took you this long to figure that out, Hermione? Brightest witch of her age, indeed.” </em>
</p><p>She watched out of a window as the witch she was thinking about wrapped an arm around Harry, clinking their champagne flutes together before taking swigs from them. Leaning against one of the walls inside of the Burrow, she sipped at her own drink, some quality elf-made wine that Andromeda Tonks had supplied. The older witch in question was sitting alone at the long Weasley kitchen table, bouncing a three-month-old Teddy Lupin on her knee as her wand produced little greenfinches that flew about the small boy. Hermione smiled at the sight.</p><p>So far, Andromeda hadn’t brought up either of her sisters at the party, which Hermione was eternally grateful for. She did invite the younger brown-haired witch to sit next to her, which Hermione found herself not wanting to refuse, then she was asked if she’d like to hold Teddy.</p><p>“Oh, I- I don’t really have experience with babies,” she confessed with a light flush of self-consciousness.</p><p>Andromeda smirked and held him out to her. “No better time to learn, then!”</p><p>Unable to refuse her (or Teddy’s admittedly cute, inquisitive face), Hermione accepted the three-month-old into her hands, smiling down at him while he sucked on his thumb. His little feet balanced on her thighs, and he studied her, a little bit of drool escaping his mouth. It still felt somewhat awkward, but nice.</p><p>“Here,” Andromeda gently said, halfway taking hold of Teddy while repositioning Hermione’s arms so she could cradle the baby properly. When she held him to her standard, Andromeda beamed at her and remarked, “There! You’re doing great, Hermione.”</p><p>A sheepish smile forming on her face, Hermione rocked Teddy slowly, uncertain emotions still ebbing and flowing through her, but she found they were all settling a bit the more she looked at the tiny metamorphmagus. This was the first time she’d properly talked with Andromeda since the visit to St. Mungo’s, and the older witch was treating her like… nothing had changed her view of her. It was nice, assuaging her fears of someone looking at her differently once they found out, and it made her wish to spend more time with the middle Black sister.</p><p>“How is his mum, by the way?” she inquired, watching as Teddy changed his eye color to something close to Hermione’s chestnut brown for a moment before it flashed back to its presumably natural hue that reminded her of Remus’s warm hazel eyes.</p><p>“Currently? Taking a well-deserved nap at the house. She’s… been torn asunder, honestly. Misses Remus terribly, much like… well, I shouldn’t compare them to Ted and I, at least we had… more time. I’ve been helping her with little Teddy here along with Harry and the Weasleys, but I’ll be astonished if she shows her pink hair ever again. Remus… he fell for her with that look.”</p><p>Hermione nodded, not sure what to say, but nevertheless found words spilling out. “I know ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t cut it, but if you- if you ever want help, I can be there, too, Andromeda. At least until term starts. And even then, weekends I should be able to leave grounds.”</p><p>The older witch placed a warm hand on her shoulder and said, “Oh, I can’t ask you to do that for me. But please call me Andy, Hermione. So long as we’re not…” She raised a brow, and<em> oh </em>, right. So long as they weren’t in the position of Healer and patient at St. Mungo’s. She hadn’t brought up or referenced the appointment at all until now, and she found herself eased by the middle Black sister’s discretion.</p><p>“May the birthday boy see his godson?” Harry’s blissfully happy voice drifted over to them as he walked back into the house. His jet black hair was even more mussed up from the birthday hat he was wearing, string wrapped snugly under his chin. Grinning widely with his arms stretched out towards her, Hermione gladly handed Teddy over to him. His green eyes bright, cooing softly at the baby in his arms, she saw all the evidence she needed to know that her best friend was going to be an<em> amazing </em>father someday.</p><p>Once Harry had left them by themselves again, Andromeda turned and looked out the windows from her seat, elbows resting on the wooden table. Without looking at Hermione, she quietly said, “Forgive me for being selfish, but I wanted to give you the detailed results in person. Narcissa wanted to send them to you herself via owl- she was unable to look at them, don’t worry, but I fibbed and said I didn’t quite trust that method for confidential correspondence. I asked her to promise to not tell you about this- I trust she didn’t say anything?”</p><p><em> Ah</em>. Hermione blinked. Narcissa had wanted to...? That was a bit odd, considering the distance she'd put between them. But keeping this from her, it had probably helped Narcissa that they hadn’t talked all that much since Grimmauld Place when she’d somehow accidentally mucked things up. She never even got a chance to attempt and properly apologise to the older witch, because it wouldn't do to bring it up out of nowhere, and Narcissa never gave her any sort of opening to segue into the subject naturally (if there ever <em> was </em> a natural way to talk about what she'd done). She was probably trying to save her from further embarrassment.</p><p>What a brave Gryffindor she was. She could go on the run for months on end, risk death, go through bloody <em> torture</em>, but she couldn't talk to Narcissa about what had happened. She didn't want to make a mountain out of a mole hill, but the blonde already had. Unless it was something <em> else </em>that had happened? Gods, she had to stop thinking about it. She shouldn't care so much.</p><p>“Well,” Hermione said softly, mentally shaking herself back into the present. “You’ll be glad to know that she didn’t break her promise. Do you… do you have them on you, presently?” She surreptitiously scanned Andy’s robes, searching for a piece of parchment, but Andy only nodded towards her.</p><p>“Already in your inner robe pockets, Hermione.”</p><p>Starting at the wandless and wordless magic Andy must have used without her noticing, she pulled back her robes and searched inside of her pockets until she found a tightly wound and wrapped parchment, which she promptly pulled out and unfolded, taking note of the warm golden glow that preceded its opening for her- a securement charm.</p><p> </p><p><b><em>Name:</em></b> <em>Hermione Jean Granger*</em><b><br/><em>Gender: </em> </b> <em> Female</em><b><br/><em>Birthday: </em> </b> <em> September 19, 1979*<br/></em><b><em>Age:</em></b> <em>19</em></p><p><b><em>Initial diagnosis:</em></b> <em>Cruciatus curse-induced mixed type neurogenic bladder</em></p><p><b> <em>Further details: </em> </b> <em> Damage from the Cruciatus curse to patient’s brain (supraspinal lesions) as well as branching “lightning strike” damage to patient’s spinal cord leading to infrasacral lesions has disrupted patient’s ability to void normally. Patient exhibits loss of external and internal nerve sensation and experiences no urge to void without medicinal potion aid, yet also displays incontinence at a variable threshold, suggesting a small degree of spastic bladder. Additionally, patient is unable to completely void at times. Note to add findings into existing prolonged Cruciatus curse casting research. </em></p><p><b><em>Next steps:</em></b> <em>Creation of specialised potion for patient, check-in with patient via assigned Healer (Andromeda Tonks née Black*)</em></p><p><b><em>Status:</em></b> <em>Open</em></p><p>
  <em> *These portions retracted from official St. Mungo’s filing system for patient confidentiality. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Seeing it in ink made it real. Disturbingly, mind-numbingly, “hard facts” <em> real</em>. Lightly touching her fingers to her lips, she found herself trembling until Andromeda placed a hand on her forearm, squeezing gently, saying her name.</p><p>“Hermione… <em> Hermione</em>.”</p><p>Blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over, she shook her head, working to clear her spiraling thoughts. She needed a calming draught, so she shakily asked for one before she couldn’t. Andy nodded, complied, and in less than a minute she was downing one of the vials that the Weasleys kept in their medicinal potions storage chest, locked with a charm to prevent abuse. In a few moments, Hermione felt herself visibly calming, but employed a Muggle technique that her parents had taught her as well.</p><p>Deep breath in through her nose for four seconds.</p><p>Hold for seven seconds.</p><p>Out for eight through her mouth.</p><p>Repeat. Repeat. <em> Repeat. </em></p><p>Finally, she heaved a sigh as she finished collecting herself. After securing the parchment again and placing it back in her pockets, she said, “Thank you for giving it to me in person, Andy. And- and for getting the calming draught. I’m looking forward to trying the specialised potion. Has your sister given you the one that… someone else altered as a base to work from?”</p><p>“Oh, yes,” Andromeda smiled, “She did! She noted that recently she slightly increased the knotgrass and added a few more eel eyes to the potion while removing some of the peppermint. It’s not quite the best solution, but it clearly works well enough for now, and-”</p><p>Hermione made a small disgusted noise. “Less peppermint? That’ll make it taste far less pleasant, won’t it?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes, but it also makes the potion much more potent. And you can drink something right after, it won’t hinder the efficacy of the potion.” She paused, holding her finger up for a moment. “Well, except pumpkin juice or any sort of strong alcohol like firewhisky. Those won’t mix well. I'll send you some of the new batch once we run it through a few more tests.”</p><p>“<em>'Mione</em>,” the voice of one Ronald Weasley called, drawing the nickname out. He stuck his ginger head around the outer door frame and waved at her, crooked smile and all. “We’re serving the desserts now, if you and Mrs. Tonks want to come out? Teddy might snatch one of the mini cupcakes up if we’re not fast.”</p><p>It was the best birthday he’d had ever had, Harry said as they feasted on the wide array of dessert foods. Other people who were close enough to Harry apparated in and out throughout the rest of the evening, and Hermione found herself<em> slightly </em>tipsy by a quarter to ten. Only slightly. (She was definitely lying to herself.) She and Luna had somehow found themselves bundled up under a light blanket, backs resting against a tree trunk that had a cushioning charm applied to it, while the boys and Ginny played one more Quidditch friendly with Percy as the reluctant referee.</p><p>“Harry’s head seems pleasantly free of wrackspurts,” Luna remarked out of nowhere. Though, arguably most everything the younger witch said could be perceived as so. Hermione hummed contentedly, leaning against Luna and enjoying the other witch’s warmth, wondering if in another life... She yawned, losing her train of thought, hardly hearing the crack of apparition several yards away.</p><p>It was only as the voices grew closer that through her tipsy daze Hermione perked up a little, straining her ears until there wasn’t a need to. She settled back down and found Luna’s hands wrapped around one of her own. Merlin, she loved how <em> soft </em> women were. Ron wasn't ever this comfortable.</p><p>“Apologies for our tardiness, Potter,” the male voice suddenly said, still ever the hint of superiority lingering in his tone. She heard Harry’s hearty laughter and shut her eyes to the stars above, attention split between the conversation off to their side and the feeling of Luna’s thumb moving against her skin. Harry had his own nightmares and demons to contend with, but at least for tonight he seemed absolutely free of them, and for that, she could relax.</p><p>“Y’know, you could call me Harry if you’d like. We’re not in Hogwarts or on opposing sides anymore, <em> Draco</em>,” the other wizard teased. If she wasn’t hearing things wrong, she swore she heard Draco stammering something unintelligible, then-</p><p>“Merlin, <em> Harry </em>it is, then. Here’s your ruddy present, birthday boy-”</p><p>“<em>Draco</em>,” a commanding female voice chastised. <em> Narcissa</em>. Hermione didn’t open her eyes, but did smile a bit at the image in her head: one of the older witch’s son shrinking into himself at his mother’s slightly caustic tone.</p><p>“Er, sorry… Harry. I swear on what’s left of the honour of the Malfoy name that your present is not hexed, jinxed, or otherwise cursed. I wasn’t sure what to get you, but well…”</p><p>She heard Harry rip open the present (<em>definitely </em> in the Muggle way, no wand could open a gift that discordantly), heard an excited gasp and something- something about a miniature working Quidditch field set, but then her ears picked up on the rustle of something (someone?) making their way through moderately overgrown grass, growing closer to their spot. She still didn’t open her eyes. There wasn’t anything dangerous on the Weasleys’ land. Sure, they had to deal with de-gnoming every so often, but those creatures were only nuisances, nothing that could <em> actually </em>hurt her.</p><p>“Sirius is brighter than usual tonight,” a soft voice traveled a couple of meters to her ears. A voice she knew very well by now. Hermione’s eyelids fluttered, but she didn’t open them. Why Narcissa had come over towards her and Luna, she didn’t know, but she told herself that she was content to not see or talk to the other witch until they went to see Bellatrix again the next week. Even if Narcissa had somehow deemed tonight the night to not maintain distance.</p><p>Well, <em> she </em>could stay silent, but Luna…</p><p>“Hello, Mrs. Malfoy,” the Ravenclaw said. “Sirius<em> is </em>extraordinarily luminous this evening, I agree.”</p><p>“Miss Lovegood, a pleasure to see you,” Narcissa greeted the other girl. Hermione felt the older witch’s gaze fall from Luna to herself. “And Miss Granger, though she appears to have nodded off.” Was that a hint of mirth in her voice? Oh gods, she’d missed it. Terribly so.</p><p>She could open her eyes and correct the older witch, but the idea of actually nodding off was becoming more and more an immensely pleasurable notion, even as she felt Luna press a chaste kiss to her temple in response to something she and Narcissa were talking about. <em> Especially </em> if she could keep listening to the other two women talk, as both of their voices were so, <em> so </em>captivating yet simultaneously soothing like a lullaby. She let herself snuggle a bit closer to Luna’s body, soaking in all the warmth she could on this cool night.</p><p>Increasingly vague voices drifted in and out of her ears until she was on the edge of true sleep when suddenly she felt someone gently levitating her, and she was fortunate she’d had the experience before (thanks to none other than Ginny), so she didn’t outright startle awake. She thought she heard Luna’s voice, then Narcissa’s. It was only as she felt herself cradled in someone’s arms, presumably under a feather-light charm, that she ever so barely cracked her eyes open, suppressing a yawn.</p><p>Narcissa’s blue eyes met hers, and she smiled lazily up at the other witch. Far too tipsy to care about the position she was in, or to truly recognise that this was the first time in a couple of weeks that Narcissa had been <em> this </em> open and close to her, she moved closer to Narcissa’s chest, resting her head against the other woman's body.</p><p>“Mm, you’re warm,” she mumbled happily.</p><p>“Let’s get you home, sweetheart,” was the last thing she <em>thought</em> she may have heard. She wasn't sure what happened afterward due to the firewhisky, but surprisingly she woke up several hours later to a dry bed, hangover potion on her nightstand, and a note underneath it in Narcissa's elegant script.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Hermione, </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>There was a mass of blotted out ink, and no matter what she cast with her wand, it never cleared. Then, at the bottom:</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Luna’s a sweet girl. A bit odd like her father, but sweet. If you’ve a relationship with her, I wish you both the best. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I made you this hangover potion from your own personal stores; I will send new ingredients before the weekend is out. It seems you enjoyed Mr. Potter’s birthday celebration- I’m glad.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Narcissa </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>She was glad for the slightly warmer tone to Narcissa’s letter, but why had she not simply started a new one? After spending the better part of the morning trying to remember what had happened, she came up with nothing. Part of her wanted to send an owl to Narcissa asking what had happened, but the other part was too apprehensive because why- <em>why</em> had she blotted out a large chunk?</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she should have thrown the original letter out. The selfish part of her, though, wanted Hermione to take notice and wrest the truth out of her, though she was not sure if she’d have the strength or courage to reveal it. Narcissa was walking the gardens of Malfoy Manor the evening after Harry Potter's birthday celebration at the Burrow, arms crossed over her lightweight outer cloak, and remembered standing (or rather, sitting) vigil at Hermione's desk the prior night.</p><p>
  <em> The young woman had a tendency to sleep on her left side, and it reminded Narcissa that Hermione’s dominant hand was her left</em>
  <em>. She had seen the woman sometimes use her right hand to grip her wand, but only on rare occasions whereupon she absolutely needed to use her left elsewhere. Hermione also made small noises during her sleep, but she didn't worry until the younger witch's face began to crumple up, the sounds turning more and more distressed until Narcissa found herself casting extra privacy and silencing wards on the room before going over to the Hermione's side, mattress slightly dipping under her additional weight. </em>
</p><p><em> "Hermione," she had said softly, tentatively placing a hand on the witch's shoulder. The brunette flinched away from the touch, yet still remained asleep. She was murmuring words Narcissa couldn't make out, until, "Didn't- didn't take," registered, and "... anything" followed right after. Hermione's breaths came out ragged, and she knew- shite, she knew the younger witch was having a nightmare about the </em> manor<em>. She finally woke with a scream, brown eyes darting open as she shot up, not noticing Narcissa's hands clamped around both her shoulders until Narcissa said something. </em></p><p><em> "Hermione, </em> Hermione<em>," she'd implored, "Look at me, darling." The younger woman turned to take in her face, eyes blown wide in residual terror. "You are </em> safe<em>, Hermione. You are in Grimmauld Place. It is over. No harm will come to you here." </em></p><p>
  <em> She held Hermione until she gathered herself and helped her get to the toilet afterward, waiting for the other woman to emerge. Once she did, she led her back up to the bedroom and settled her back into bed. Narcissa made the desk chair her home for the rest of the night, wishing she could give Hermione a Dreamless Sleep potion, but it didn't mix well with firewhisky. She flitted between watching, comforting, and taking Hermione to the loo once more until the sun started to peek over the horizon line. At that point, she started a letter to leave on Hermione's bedside table. Images of the younger woman passed through the front of her mind: finding her settled next to Miss Lovegood, seeing how relaxed she had appeared next to the Ravenclaw, then holding her in her arms, taking them back to Grimmauld Place after telling Draco where she was going... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Mother," her son had said, his grey eyes huge as he took in the strange sight of Hermione cradled in his mother's arms, "Why… why have you got Granger like that?" </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "She is too inebriated to go back to Grimmauld Place by herself, Draco." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He blinked owlishly at her as if sizing his own mother up, then, softly, despite the fact they were away from the rest of the party, stated as if it were simple fact: "You care for her." </em>
</p><p><em> "I care for her safety," she replied coolly, as if it were that simple. But he nodded, satisfied to end the conversation there for now. She wondered when or if he would find a reason to bring it up again. She certainly still wasn't ready to confront everything, even on her own. She would allow herself this </em> one <em> night and do everything in her power afterward to reverse these emotions for the Muggle-born woman, which she assured herself- fooled herself, that she was doing an excellent job of so far. She was in a binding magical contract, yes, but that didn't mean she had to grow to irreversibly care for her. She could go back. They could. They had grown a bit more distant, a bit more like it had been in the earliest days visiting her sister. </em></p><p>
  <em> So this once, only this once, she let herself release her emotions in the letter, only to magically blot everything out before writing a much, much shorter letter beneath the original. </em>
</p><p>Hermione hadn't brought up the letter, the party, or Narcissa's presence in her bedroom that night for two weeks. She wondered if the other witch remembered much of anything from the night, though she had to have seen the letter. But Narcissa couldn't let herself bring it up first. She had not known time to pass by so excruciatingly slow since the war ended.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“It’s taken me way too long to say this, but I’m so, <em> so </em> sorry if I did anything untoward when I was out of it at Harry’s party, Narcissa. Thanks so much for taking me home, but beyond that I- I don’t know how much of it was real or a dream… and when I drink, sometimes I...” Hermione forced out, unable to contain how desperate her voice came across, swallowing the last of her words down. They were walking towards the Room of Requirement a couple of weeks later, a little over a month since the Lucius Malfoy incident with Bellatrix, and though she hadn’t brought <em> that </em> day up, she’d finally had the courage to say something, <em> anything </em> about the night of the 31st. Though Hermione couldn't remember it all with clarity, Narcissa had <em>continued</em> to distance herself, and she'd cursed her shoddy memory of the night, wondering if she'd done something <em> else </em>to muck things up.</p><p>Narcissa waved her off coolly. “You did nothing of the such, Hermione. If you had, I would have certainly let you know.” But she <em> hadn’t </em> let her know outright when she <em> had </em>done something inappropriate, even if it was by accident, at Grimmauld Place. So what was she playing at? What was this distancing thing <em> about</em>?</p><p>“But,” she said, increasing her pace to walk side-by-side the older witch, “Your letter, there was a lot blotted out and I-”</p><p>Blue eyes subtly widened, but just as quickly returned to a cool gaze.</p><p>“I must have spilled some ink, Miss Granger,” Narcissa smoothly answered, and effectively shut the conversation down by arriving in front of the blank wall that would create the entrance to Bellatrix’s holding area.</p><p>Hermione’s magic thrummed unnaturally from the bond- she suddenly found no need to try and continue her conversation with the unwilling Malfoy. Once they were inside the room, Bellatrix gave Hermione a cocky grin- still half a sneer- and waved childishly at her youngest sister.</p><p>“My two<em> favourite </em>witches,” Bellatrix drawled, clearly as affected as Hermione was by the bond, however differently she approached it. Though the dark-haired witch had no scar that burned as she did, she definitely noticed the subtle ways Bellatrix reacted to her presence now.</p><p>“When will I get to leave here, Cissy?” Bellatrix asked as she and Hermione stood in front of each other, the barrier the only thing between them. Narcissa informed them that no one wanted their children to be in the same building as Tom Riddle’s former right-hand lieutenant, so, “you will be moved to Black Manor before September 1st.”</p><p>“That’s…” Hermione started.</p><p>“Less than two weeks away!” Bellatrix exclaimed, clapping her hands together.</p><p>Narcissa narrowed her eyes at her older sister. “This doesn’t necessarily mean you’re getting any of your magic back, Bella. Or much more room to roam around in.”</p><p>“But still!” Bellatrix said, her genuine happiness seeping into Hermione’s veins like poison. Merlin, she wanted to claw her own <em> veins </em> out. “Still, Cissy, finally out of this bloody room! I’ve become <em> so </em> bored, pet,” she turned her attention to Hermione again, a deviously wicked smirk on her face. “You’ll <em> love </em>Black Manor for the library alone.” She... she wasn't sure how much of a threat that sentence was.</p><p>What she was sure of was how this last month had confused her more than almost anything in her entire life. After begrudgingly bringing the Muggle cookbook to her, crossing the barrier for the first time as a test because of the loathsome cursed bond coaxing her in, Bellatrix had stared at her rather oddly, tilting her head from one side to the other as if seeing her for the first time in her life. She had stared right back at the Dark witch, who turned to set the book down on the tiny kitchen table, and before she could jump back to put the barrier between them again, Bellatrix had spun around and slapped her clear across the cheek, the resounding smack on her skin echoing through the room.</p><p>And then, the older witch had fallen to her knees and made an anguished noise like she was some mortally wounded creature. Hermione’s chest had ached like a roaring forest fire was spreading through her lungs, <em> feeling </em>Bellatrix’s splitting emotions as if they were her own and hating every second of it. Narcissa had cut the visit short as Hermione gulped down not one, but two of her vials to rid herself of the dreadful feelings.</p><p><em> “Does the- does the bond influence </em> all <em> of our emotions, Mrs. Malfoy?” she’d asked. “Is anything that we feel our </em> own<em>, or is this all a complete farce created by the bonding?” She wanted reassurance, anything to settle her mind.<br/></em></p><p><em> Narcissa had turned back from her sister for the moment and looked at her- or rather, not </em> at <em> her, but at the space over her shoulder. “It is a Black blood bond, Miss Granger, and is inherently Dark in its nature. It may search for the tiniest natural seed of care- which can simply be a care for your fellow mankind in the most general sense, but it will implant what it feels it needs to accomplish its goal, and if it is… </em> fought <em> to an outrageous degree, it has defence mechanisms it will employ. Which is, again, why we are holding these visits while working on a way around said mechanisms.” </em></p><p>
  <em> As she said this, Narcissa had moved her attention back towards her sister, walking through the partially inactive barrier, brushing black curls from the woman’s forehead. “Bella, are you…?” </em>
</p><p><em> Haunted eyes had looked up at Narcissa and she’d started cackling, scaring Hermione, but not her sister. Narcissa looked at her with something she could only liken to the care of a sibling, no matter what that sibling had </em> done<em>, though Hermione knew she couldn’t ever truly understand what that felt like. “I wish you’d fucking </em> kill <em> me, Cissy,” Bellatrix had spat. “What would the Dark Lord do to me now, consorting with a mudbl- Muggle-born like </em> <b>her</b><em>? I shouldn't-” </em></p><p><em> “The Dark Lord is </em> dead<em>, Bella. Blood purity will become- is </em> becoming <em> a thing of the past, whether you like it or not. I am more than aware of how we were raised. You know as well as I what losing meant, and I feel you may be growing… accustomed to the idea through this bond. You wouldn’t be so distressed otherwise.” </em></p><p><em> That had earned Narcissa a shaky, watery laugh before Bellatrix Black had buried herself into her younger sister’s chest, crying while Hermione backed against a far wall, wishing yet again that she could rip the curse, the bond, out of her with no repercussions. She and Narcissa had shared a look between the two of them; something was changing, and the smallest part of Bellatrix was allowing it; however little she actually </em> did <em> care in her conscious, it mattered not. It- her subconscious- was </em> enough <em> for the bond to implant itself, Narcissa later explained to her. Not as if it would hold up after the bond was severed, though. </em></p><p>The week after the Muggle cookbook incident, Hermione had to owl Narcissa for more potion vials than normal, because Bellatrix kept<em> hurting </em>herself, and Hermione had found it unbearable. Narcissa had quickly created two extra batches, but her letters to Hermione were still distinctly lacking the former warmth they’d taken on. If it wasn't frustrating enough to deal with Bellatrix...</p><p>However, Narcissa must have spoken to Bellatrix and convinced her of something, because on the subsequent visit, the Dark witch had given her some half-arsed apology. She’d shrugged, not truly accepting it, but Black didn’t seem to mind. Or at least she didn’t make how she felt known.</p><p>On the next visit a week later, she’d made the mistake of joining Bellatrix inside the barrier again. Granted, it went miraculously well for all of about five minutes as she was shown a few of the books the older witch had been reading to pass the time, but Hermione- or rather, the bond crackling under her skin- had recklessly let her guard down. Suddenly, Bellatrix had shoved her left sleeve up, clenching one hand around her wrist as she ran fingers over the scar that read <em> mudblood</em>.</p><p>Onyx eyes shone with something that Hermione could only describe as <em> possession</em>.</p><p>“<em>Mine</em>,” Bellatrix had said, half a whisper and half a hiss, before wrapping a strong hand around the majority of the word and tightening her grip until it <em> ached</em>. Whining, then <em> whimpering </em>, Hermione had tried to pull away, but only after Narcissa said something did Bellatrix release her, despite the reciprocal flashes of pain in her dark eyes. Her forearm had turned red from the pressure applied by Bellatrix’s fingers.</p><p>It was on a visit near the middle of August that Bellatrix outright said, “The Dark Lord is dead and isn’t coming back.”</p><p><em> “Wow, thank you, had absolutely </em> no <em> idea,” Hermione had replied with a roll of her eyes. </em></p><p>
  <em> Bellatrix glared at her and made an obscene hand gesture. </em>
</p><p><em> “</em>Bella<em>!” </em></p><p><em> “Quiet, Cissy.” Then, to Hermione, “Well, my bloody </em> apologies <em> if it took me nearly three months to come to terms with it, but I recently had that damned Boy-Who-Lived in here to prove it with his own, still living, body. His presence, the papers he brought that put the Dark Lord’s dead body on </em> display <em> before they apparently </em> burnt <em> it to ashes</em>, <em> the fact this </em> castle <em> is still standing, and no one's come to free me, his bloody right-hand lieutenant? He’s dead. He’s dead, and I’ve wasted over two decades of my fucking life. And he...” </em></p><p><em> The Dark witch slumped to the ground, pulling at her wild black curls. She hadn’t even bothered to try and tame them today. Bellatrix was hurting, and she didn’t care. </em><strong>She</strong><em> didn’t. It was the bond and she knew it, but still. </em> Fuck. <em> It was taking all of her patience and self-control to not incessantly nag Narcissa about the suppressant. </em></p><p><em> “Two fucking </em> decades<em>, and all that time in Azkaban! For what?” and softer, “For what…” </em></p><p><em>“This bond is unforgivably cruel. </em>I<em> don’t want to feel </em>anything<em> for you, </em>I<em> don’t want</em> anything <em>to do with you, because you </em><b><em>tortured</em></b><em> me and so many others, and not to mention- if your side had won, I’d be a slave or dead, but somehow- somehow this cursed thing </em>makes<em> me, and I bloody hate it.”</em></p><p>
  <em> “Well then, don’t! I'm not asking for your bloody pity!” Bellatrix had screamed. </em>
</p><p><em> “I can’t! I can’t help it! I </em> said <em> it’s the bloody cursed bond’s fault!” she'd shouted.</em></p><p>
  <em> ‘I can’t help it.’ </em>
</p><p>“I’d very much like to see that library, Black,” she replied with a strained, false smile.</p><p>Seven more months.</p><p>
  <em> ‘I can’t help it.’ </em>
</p><p>She needed to figure out what she <em>could </em>help. She couldn't change the past- all of the Time-Turners were destroyed, and even if they <em>weren't</em>, she wasn't going to fiddle with them any more. The present and future, though... if there was a way to try and prevent anyone else from suffering like she and so many others had from what Bellatrix had employed against them- because as she well knew, Bellatrix was not unique, and others could and <em>would </em>follow in her footsteps given the right circumstances- she wanted to find it. Removing the Dementors from Azkaban had been a good start, but she knew that Bellatrix had contributed to torturing the Longbottoms into insanity <em>before </em>the Dementors had gotten hold of her. The woman herself had already been too far gone then, but if- if <em>others</em> could be prevented from going down that same irredeemable path in the future... that was something Hermione wanted to help with. She didn't know how yet, but-</p><p>Her scar throbbed in pain for the first time in a while.</p><p>No one else should have to experience fear or <em>torture</em> like she had.</p><p>Like the Longbottoms had, losing their sanity.</p><p>Like countless other Muggle-borns and Muggles had, losing their lives.</p><p>They had all lost too much at the hands of someone who would earn no forgiveness from her, but served as a lesson she still needed to pick apart.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>As she sat on a bench inside of a gazebo at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa crossed her legs at the knee and watched as one of the manor’s house-elves tended to one section of the gardens. She made note of which section, so that <em> if </em>she felt the need to take her frustrations out again she wouldn’t do it there. However frustrated she was now, it was her own fault, and she wouldn't take it out on something a house-elf was clearly putting time and effort into. She... she knew that she <em>wanted</em> to be there for Hermione more. The blood bond was sharpening its claws, digging them further into her sister and Hermione if their interactions were any evidence of it, but she was there more now for Bellatrix than for the Muggle-born witch. It was helping her credibility with her sister, but she had merely replaced one struggle with another. Allowing herself to take care of Hermione on the night of July 31st going into the morning of August 1st had shown her that this couldn't last, this distancing, because she was <em>selfish</em> and enjoyed the other witch's presence far too much, but she simply wasn't sure how to ease back into the relationship they had before with any semblance of her dignity intact. She should take a page out of the Gryffindor's book, but she needed to wait for the right moment. She only hoped it would come quickly.</p><p>Progress on the suppressant potion was still slow going, but at least she <em> had </em>gotten somewhere with it in her most recent test runs with the transfigured dummies. They were able to go about their separate dungeon quarters on opposite ends of the manor as they were charmed to normally do without life-threatening side-effects, and neither had shown inclination to need to be near the other for the space of three weeks (six days in regular time, if she took away the intricate spell that sped time up for them). Yet on day seven, one began to exhibit cuts and gashes along its skin, which in turn affected the other, and the wounds did not begin to heal until they were in close contact again, all physical distance and wards removed.</p><p>It was better than a false death that would have meant real death for the two witches, at least. But until she created a suppressant that presented less harm than what Hermione and Bellatrix were currently going through, she would keep experimenting.</p><p>Only when she visited with Andy in mid-August did she make another breakthrough.</p><p><em> “Have you checked the lower library at Black Manor- the Undercroft, I believe it was called?” her older sister had said as she poured more tea into Narcissa’s mug. She’d raised a brow, took a sip of tea at the </em> perfect <em> temperature, and leaned forward a bit. </em></p><p>
  <em> “What do you mean, Andromeda?”  </em>
</p><p><em> Merlin, Andy had the gall to laugh at her! Before she could even scoff, though, Andy withdrew her wand and cast a mini translucent replica of the library into the air before them. Below the main floor was a darkened, smaller area, about one-eighth the size of the main library. Narcissa reached out and poked her finger through the darkness, then yelped as something </em> pricked <em> her. </em></p><p>
  <em> Retracting her finger, she blinked at the drop of blood that had appeared at the tip of it. Pointedly ignoring Andy’s jibe about being the youngest and most naïve, she healed the slight injury, and when she glanced up again the darkness had fled the lower area of the library replica as if it’d merely been a fog waiting for the right moment to dissipate. Inside was a clear addition to the Black library- one with only a few bookcases and a potions workstation, by the looks of it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m surprised you forgot about this,” Andy uttered. “It’s hidden behind Black blood wards, which is why even this spelled replica required Black blood. I’m glad to see that as a Malfoy, your blood didn’t completely alter after going through with those pure-blood marriage vows.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I…” Narcissa started, “I must have forgotten as I became increasingly involved in life as a Malfoy. Thank you for reminding me, Andy. I’m sorry to take my leave so soon, but-” </em>
</p><p><em> “Not to worry,” Andy waved a dismissive hand. “Hermione needs that suppressant more than I need your company, however fond Teddy has become of you.” Oh, how she absolutely </em> abhorred <em> that mischievous glint in her older sister’s eyes, and that blasted wink! </em></p><p>
  <em> “You are aware that our sister also needs that suppressant?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Sod Bella to hell for all I care, Cissa,” Andy huffed. “I know you still care for her to a degree and hold out some flicker of hope, but she’s done too much for me to ever attempt forgiving her.” </em>
</p><p><em> “I never- I never </em> said <em> that I’ve </em> forgiven <em> her, Andy!” Narcissa had cried out. “How could I ever when she… when she's </em> done <em> what she… Merlin. So many Muggles, witches and wizards like the Longbottoms... and... </em> I <em> was the one who watched as she cast </em> crucio <em> after </em> crucio <em> on Hermione- I was the one who watched as she marked her with that cursed blade. But she simply must have the suppressant as well, or it will not work.” </em></p><p>
  <em>"But I wonder, is there a part of you that wishes you could only treat Hermione Granger?" And there that knowing smirk again that Narcissa had seen far too often in her childhood and teenage years before Andy had left. She knew how to read her far too well, and unfortunately her pale skin betrayed her emotions too easily when she let her guard down. Which Andy had a unique talent for accomplishing, always had. She'd missed her so damn much, but this?</em>
</p><p><em>She groaned. "Why must you be such an </em>arsehole<em>, Andy?"<br/></em></p><p><em>"Oh, but isn't this the pot calling the kettle black?" Andy quipped. "Hermione, believe it or not, owled me-</em> me!<em> to ask if something's been wrong with you, or if she'd done anything to upset you. While I'm happy that she trusted me enough to send such a letter, I unfortunately had to tell her that I did not know what was wrong with my baby sister. That witch cares about you, or are you not aware?" Another smirk. Narcissa wanted to throttle her sister.</em></p><p>
  <em>"It is none of your business-"</em>
</p><p><em>"Oh no, no, </em>no, <em>dear Cissa, I believe Hermione </em>made <em>it my business-"</em></p><p><em>"Look, will you </em>stop <em>it if I promise to resolve things with her soon?"</em></p><p>
  <em>Andromeda grinned, nearly looking like Bella had during Narcissa's first year at Hogwarts. "Do it before the end of the month. Promise me."</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Making a disparaging noise, she took her sister's hand and promised.</em>
</p><p>
  <em> Andy moved to rest her other hand on Narcissa's thigh, a soft apology sent to her for assuming things about her relationship with Bella, then, “Remember- look for Black grimoires in the Undercroft. You might find something more to finish the suppressant there. The worst of the worst is down there, though, so… be careful, all right?” </em>
</p><p><em> She leaned into the warm hand that had come up to cup her cheek and nodded. A new direction, new possibilities. That suppressant </em> would <em> get made. </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>as I wrote this chapter, I nearly wanted to backtrack and give drarry a go as they were quite fun to write, which I was not expecting at all. we're sticking with harry x ginny tho (I am not using their ship name as it is horrendous)</p><p>thanks for your continued support in reading this, leaving comments, kudos, etc! 💛 </p><p>edited to say wtf this has somehow reached over 50k words? i haven't written this much for anything since nanowrimo when i was in the 10th grade in 2008 lmfao</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>bellatrix is moved to black manor, narcissa shows hermione the manor's library, hermione meets the black sisters' mother, and the two sisters have a chat after narcissa takes hermione back to grimmauld place.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Black Manor was three stories tall, contained seven bathrooms, six bedrooms, a magnificent parlour (that fortunately didn't resemble Malfoy Manor's), two dining halls, three sitting rooms, a smaller dining room, a ballroom, two kitchens- and sod it, all Hermione<em> really </em> cared about was getting the chance to visit the <em> enormous </em>library. Black family house-elves had kept the manor clean, following standing orders last given to them by Cygnus Black III before his death in 1992. Before Bellatrix was transferred to the manor, though, Hermione gleaned that Narcissa had taken two journeys there, catching up on anything that needed extra work put in.</p><p><em> “We need new furniture, I don’t want to see anything connected to mother’s </em> fun<em>,” Bellatrix had groused to Narcissa while Hermione read from her edition of Hogwarts: A History, something she knew she’d never grow tired of. But she looked up at Bellatrix as she said this. The older witch merely glanced over at her across the table and grunted noncommittally. </em></p><p>
  <em> “Easily done,” Narcissa had responded, calling a Black family house-elf into the room and telling him and the others to remove certain pieces of furniture and supply her with a catalogue to choose new ones to replace them with. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Anything else for Poesy, Mistress Narcissa?” the house-elf asked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “New paint, preferably,” Narcissa clipped. “Make the old manor a tad brighter. And fresh carpets where needed. Polish the floors, things like that. If we need to remodel further, we will hire a company to plan.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The house-elf had nodded vigorously, his long ears flapping forward as he did so. “Poesy and the rest will be doing all this for Mistresses!” </em>
</p><p>And oh, they had done all of that and more, at least according to Bellatrix’s stunned face as she was escorted inside by a small team of highly-trained Aurors towards the tail-end of August. Hermione hadn’t needed to be there for the transfer initially, but they’d moved it back a day, and so it happened to fall on their traditional Thursday engagement. She had forced herself to hide the slight disappointment she had felt when the date was changed, because she’d rather been looking forward to seeing Narcissa twice in one week, despite the distance that had grown between them. Partially because she had figured that seeing her <em> twice </em>in one week would lend to an extra surge of courage to confront the other witch.</p><p>“All right,” one of the Aurors, a surly-looking, lanky, middle-aged wizard, grumbled in Bellatrix's direction, pulling Hermione out of her thoughts at the same time, “You’re allowed the East Wing of the second floor. You are also allowed to use<em> lumos</em>, <em>nox</em>, and<em> reparo</em>. Your wand <em>will </em>be extensively monitored. You are not allowed out of that wing. You are also not allowed to come any closer than within one meter of Miss Granger- we’ve set up wards to prevent it. And, Miss Granger?”</p><p>“Yes, Auror Offenburg?” she asked, reluctantly moving her gaze from taking in the grand foyer to look at the dark grey-haired man.</p><p>“If at any time you feel unsafe,” he dug an extremely aged and nearly cracked through Sickle out of his robes and handed it over to her, “use this as you did those Galleons at Hogwarts. Brilliant idea, too. Potter and Weasley told us all about it. Take care of her, Mrs. Malfoy, will you?” The last question had her looking over at the woman who had remained quiet throughout most of this transfer, only speaking when spoken to.</p><p>Narcissa nodded curtly.</p><p>“Of course, that is what I’m here for.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>The library was in the West Wing of the first floor. Bellatrix was enraged by that fact until Narcissa put a temporary body-bind curse on her and reminded her that they could bring books <em> to her</em>. They simply couldn’t leave the manor, but they <em> could </em>be taken elsewhere in the building.</p><p>“Did Azkaban really addle your mind<em> that </em>much, Bella?” Narcissa had asked, condescension lacing her words.</p><p>Bellatrix snapped at her like a dog might. “Forgive me, <em> dear sister</em>, if being pent up in that room for a few months on <em> top </em> of the fourteen sodding years in Azkaban didn’t do any favours for my <em> mind</em>. You should be glad that I’m not any <em> worse </em>after everything. Bella’s still <span>‘</span>mental,’ a <span>‘</span>mad woman,’ though!” She cackled as she talked about herself in the third person, and Hermione swore she could feel the suppressed magic within the Dark witch’s core strain against her own. Another unfortunate development of the bond to add to the bloody list.</p><p>“I apologise, Bella,” Narcissa had half-heartedly said after a resigned sigh, taking one of the Dark witch’s hands in hers and leading them over to sit on a small double bed that was already made up for Bellatrix.</p><p>While the sisters continued to talk, Hermione had wandered out of the bedroom, surprised that Bellatrix hadn’t made any moves to attack her once the Aurors had left the vicinity. She wasn’t sure if it was because of the bond, the new restrictions they’d put on Bellatrix, or a combination of both. Certainly it had at least <em> something </em> to do with her sister, because they weren’t entirely sure how close to mortal peril either had to reach before invoking the magical contract’s penalty- there would be a few clear warnings beforehand, at least. But if there was anything <em> unequivocally </em> true about Bellatrix Black, it was her love for her sisters. Well, <em> sister</em>, considering she still wasn’t fond of even hearing Andromeda’s name. It was clear that Narcissa hadn't told Bellatrix about her communication and reconciliation with Andy yet.</p><p>“At least she doesn’t completely go off the handle whenever she’s mentioned now,” Hermione had murmured to herself as she stood at the top of a descending stairwell on the first floor's East Wing, figuring that it led to some manner of undercroft that she had absolutely no intention of ever visiting on her own. The one at Malfoy Manor still featured in her nightmares, even though she’d only had room to imagine it from Ron and Harry’s recollections while she was being tortured in the parlour.</p><p>Fifteen minutes of exploration later, she quietly made her way back to Bellatrix’s bedroom, but stopped a few meters outside of the door when she heard Lucius Malfoy’s name brought up again. Neither she nor presumably Bellatrix had brought the man up any further since that morning several weeks ago, but this time it was Narcissa speaking his name.</p><p>“-he continues to show disappointment in Draco and I. While I can take Lucius’s disappointment in <em> me</em>- that is nothing I am not already accustomed to- I want nothing to do with a man who only scorns and scoffs at everything his only <em> child </em> is doing to try and redeem even a sliver of the Malfoy name. He cares nothing for what he’s achieving. Meanwhile, Lucius is doing nothing good for himself in Azkaban, merely stirring up trouble, starving himself as if some hunger-strike will do <em> anything </em>positive.</p><p>“Merlin, he is simply- he’s <em> impossible</em>!” Narcissa’s voice raised part of an octave, “I’ve half a mind to stop visiting him entirely. I simply… I <em> hate </em> it, Bella,” a forlorn sigh, and <em> gods </em> did Hermione feel her chest tighten, “I cannot remember when he last showed a shred of genuine care or love towards me, without expecting something in return. During our Hogwarts years he was so...” her voice tapered off.</p><p>A slightly deeper voice spoke up, more patient than Hermione had ever heard it, “Cissy. Look at me, Cissy.” A pause. “You know I never liked that Malfoy pill or his bloody murderous peacocks.”</p><p>At this, Hermione heard watery laughter from Narcissa.</p><p>“Now, I <em> am </em> rather mad according to, well, <em>everyone</em>,” Bellatrix continued, “but I must say I enjoy being an unmarried witch again, bar these bloody Ministry restrictions. Talk to someone else, but <em> I’d </em> suggest filing for divorce, so long as you prepare for the consequences. Would look better on you, I’ll say that. He’s only holding you down, Cissy. There are surely other pure-bloods who will treat you far better, if you desire to re-marry.”</p><p>During the following pregnant pause between the sisters Hermione made herself known, entering the room again with a small hello and a slight wave.</p><p>“I believe I could fit roughly six or more of my parents’ entire house in this manor,” she said, her eyes wandering over the grand bedroom with its vaulted ceiling. Apparently it’d been a guest bedroom before, while the family bedrooms were found along a different second floor corridor in the West Wing, one area that Bellatrix wasn’t allowed in currently.</p><p>Bellatrix snorted. “Of course, I forget how small Muggles’ homes are.”</p><p>“Well, not all of them can afford lavish countryside manors! London’s a bit of a tight area to squeeze into,” Hermione huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.</p><p>Though she felt annoyed at Bellatrix's ignorant Muggle remark, the bond felt<em> relaxed </em> for the first time in, Merlin, she didn’t know. It felt wrong- it <em> was </em> wrong. But maybe the simple change of scenery had something to do with it. Even Narcissa looked a tad better for wear here, less wound up as they met gazes more today than they had in what felt like much too long. Or- she had to stop thinking about her while <em> looking her in the eyes</em>, damn it- maybe the changes were because they were back on Black ancestral land, where the cursed blade had presumably been imbued with its magic centuries ago. She didn’t particularly care right now as on edge she felt, her own magic itching from the bond pressing against it.</p><p>“Bella,” Narcissa spoke up, breaking the small silence that had gathered between the three of them. “Will you be all right for a while if I show Miss Granger the library?”</p><p>Bellatrix waved a dismissive hand in her direction. “Do you take me for a toddler, Cissy? Wait,” she looked at Narcissa’s raised brow, “don’t answer that. I’ll be <em> fine- </em>I’m eager to see what else I have access to up here, as it’s been <em> ages </em>since we’ve lived in this place. Take the girl and show her around some more if you’d like. She’ll be making this her second... third? home, effectively, if that suppressant can’t be made in time, Cissy. Won’t do to have her lost in here and making me feel like utter shite from it.” She threw a glare Hermione’s way.</p><p>Hermione bit her tongue at the underhanded jab of the idea of her becoming <em> emotional </em> like some child from becoming lost, and just did manage to catch herself before spilling the truth about her parents to <em> Bellatrix </em> of all people. The bond pushed at her magic incessantly, as if strongly suggesting <em> confide confide confide, she's your bond, confide</em>. Clenching her jaw, she thought about how she still paid the house note and the barest of utilities on her parents’ place in Hampstead, but it wasn’t a <em> home </em>anymore. Not as she remembered it, at least. So now only Grimmauld Place was anything akin to a home to her. Well, perhaps Hogwarts, but that was more a home-away-from-home, and the Burrow had always felt more of a rustic holiday location.</p><p>Wordlessly, she followed Narcissa out of the room, sparing one last glance in Bellatrix’s direction before putting all her attention on the younger Black sister. She was dressed in immaculate two-toned robes, grey and royal blue, that billowed behind her and was complemented with a high necked blouse, long skirt and short heels that<em> click</em>ed softly as she seemed to effortlessly walk through the corridors and down one flight of stairs to the oversized double doors that opened into…</p><p>Hermione gasped, forgetting herself as her eyes roved over the at <em> least </em> six meter tall bookcases that went seemingly on and on before finally reaching a dead-end wall that was covered in yet <em> another </em>full bookcase, which looked like it might extend the entire width of the grand room. And that wasn’t even mentioning the second and third  floors, bookcases wrapped around an outer walkway. She suddenly felt two fingertips resting upon the bottom of her chin, applying slight pressure until Hermione came back to herself and promptly shut her mouth, a light flush on her cheeks. This was… the first time she truly, <em> clearly</em> and <em>completely</em> remembered Narcissa touching her in nearly a <em> month</em>, and so intimately at that. It really shouldn’t make her feel so happy, should it? She should be angry with the other witch, and a part of her <em> was </em>frustrated still, but she...</p><p>A low hum interrupted her thoughts, followed by, “It appears Draco <em> was </em>absolutely correct when he described you as a bookworm,” her companion uttered, a small, pleased smile on her face. “Anything you desire to pull off the shelves, do feel free to do so. Though,” Narcissa seemed to consider something with slight pause, “there may be a few bookcases that will find fit to do you harm because you are not a Black, because of your… lineage, or both.”</p><p>“Not to be entirely presumptuous,” Hermione started, a sly gleam in her eyes, awestruck by the sheer size and aura of the library, the way Narcissa had lightly touched her- all of it making her temporarily forget their lack of informal, teasing conversation in the past weeks, “but I believe the… <em> solution </em> to those problems is in this room… somewhere.” She grinned coyly in Narcissa’s direction, and <em> oh</em>, she saw something in the older witch’s eyes, something she hadn’t quite caught before.</p><p>She blamed it on the lighting, blamed it on literally anything halfway reasonable and factual, because no, no, even if she truly wasn’t in love with Lucius Malfoy like she had been ages ago, this- this was her mind playing tricks on her- Narcissa hadn’t distanced herself because... no, simply <em>no</em>. That was bloody preposterous. But still, as her eyes averted Narcissa’s gaze and her heart leapt traitorously in her chest, she allowed herself a moment to finally realise: <em> oh Merlin, I’m definitely attracted to Narcissa Malfoy. </em>It was no wonder that she’d felt so angry and wounded from the pull back to their developing... friendship?</p><p>Her grin melted into something thoroughly awkward then, and rubbing at the nape of her neck beneath her mane of hair she cleared her throat. The noise brought Narcissa out of whatever reverie she’d been in, their eyes catching once more- oh Godric's graces the other witch had probably been musing on how utterly <em> dumb </em>she was being, and she still needed to apologise for what’d she’d stupidly done at Grimmauld Place, sod it all, and-</p><p>“You’re being loud with your thoughts again, Hermione,” Narcissa said, bringing one of her hands up to wrap around one of Hermione's shoulders. “You have no need to apologise, though I… do, considering how long I let Grimmauld Place go without proper address. It was an… unfortunate accident, nothing more- I distanced myself because…” she paused for a moment, seemingly considering her next words, “I… I wasn’t sure if <em> I </em>had offended you, I had no need to bring attention to-”</p><p>“You didn’t! Offend me, that is. It was right of you to... I- I didn’t mean to, to, y’know-” she gestured, sure that she was flushed all over at this point. Partially covering her face with her hands, she continued, “I’m sorry. I should have realised what I was-”</p><p>“Please do not worry yourself over it, Hermione,” Narcissa interjected. “Also, <em> please </em> don’t demean yourself so. You are the farthest thing from <em> dumb</em>, though sometimes you have been somewhat foolhardy. They are not one and the same, however. Recklessness, I dare say, can look good on Gryffindors. Sometimes.” Something in Narcissa’s eyes twinkled again, but she elected to ignore it. She was electing to ignore a <em> whole </em> lot now, which was uncharacteristic of herself. But she <em> was </em> relieved to finally obtain closure on that day. An accident… true. But unfortunate? She had to look away from Narcissa as she thought back to how the older woman had looked underneath her, how she… she had reacted a bit as well, if she truly had to… admit it to herself. And <em> her </em> slight reaction hadn’t been brought on by someone physically touching her, nor did she have a good explanation for said reaction coming back to her later on, after the calming draught had worn off. She flushed again and wanted to sink into the ground. Sure, she could accept that she liked women, but Narcissa? She didn’t have a chance. She- no, not at all, the witch was certainly a married woman, certainly straight.</p><p>“To answer your blatant tease, however,” Narcissa said, changing the subject, “the ‘solution’ to your problems is glad to lend aid when needed.” Narcissa guided her down between the main aisle that separated two sections of rows of bookcases, pointing out subject matter labels on their ends. Unsurprisingly, there were eleven rows entirely devoted to the Dark Arts; she questioned the older witch if<em> this </em>was where tomes on Black family curses were kept, to which Narcissa shook her head.</p><p>“Ones like these here?” They stopped at a particular section on household hexes and curses. “You should be able to pick up and read easily, if boredom strikes your fancy in such a way. Some are still rather nasty to try and handle, but those have parchment notes on the spines with permanent sticking charms on them. If you’d like to read them, we have gloves that nullify or pacify their effects.”</p><p>With a small noise of unease, Hermione admitted, “If it’s all the same to you, these don’t really hold my attention. I’d say something about all these Dark magic books, but seeing the sections on Light and Grey magic back there, well, the House of Black isn’t <em> all </em>that bad.”</p><p>Chuckling, Narcissa smoothly said, “Well, I do hope that I would find myself in that <em> not all that bad </em>category, Hermione.”</p><p>“As a Black? I have to admit,” Hermione said with a slight grin, raising an inquisitive finger in the air and pointing it towards the older witch, “I don’t know much of Narcissa <em> Black</em>, but Narcissa <em> Malfoy </em>has been rather the toss-up between the two.”</p><p>“Oh,” Narcissa breathed, a smirk tugging at the edge of her lips. “I may still be a Malfoy in name, but I steadfastly assure you that I have been a <em> Black </em>through and through in my proceedings with you after the war. Except, perhaps, during most of our initial meeting in the Chamber of Reception.”</p><p>Hermione, still listening, had pulled a certain blue hardbound book from a shelf containing information on magical creatures found within the Black Forest of Germany. She looked up after Narcissa finished and said, “Ever the multi-faceted witch, aren’t you? Malfoy, Black, what-have-you.”</p><p>Narcissa slid the open book from Hermione’s hands, raising her arm completely to hold it over her head and chuckling at the ever-so-petulant look that graced the younger witch’s face as she tried to reach it from its sudden new height. Hermione huffed impatiently, moving to bounce on the tips of her toes.</p><p>“Forgetting you’re a witch, dear?” Narcissa questioned. As she lowered the book, Hermione stuck her tongue out at her. For however much she didn’t want to wear her emotions so plainly on her sleeve, Hermione blushed furiously and tucked the book between her right forearm and side.</p><p>“You might forget I’m quite multi-faceted as well, Narcissa,” she replied coolly, trying to regain her composure. “How are you to know of the reasoning behind my actions?”</p><p>Something flashed in the older witch’s eyes, and Hermione suddenly felt like she was truly in the presence of the epitome of a calculating Slytherin, and gods that should not make her feel a certain way. “As much a mystery as you may be for a Gryffindor, Hermione, it was<em> ever </em>so clear to me that you were very much awake,” Narcissa leaned down slightly, breath tickling Hermione’s ear, “at Mr. Potter’s birthday celebration when I first saw you. Multi-faceted, indeed, especially for a lioness.” </p><p>With a quick intake of breath at the sudden change in subject, especially to <em> that </em> night that had left her with more questions than answers, Hermione backed up, bumping against the shelving behind her. “H-how? Luna didn’t say anything, did she? And I <em> was </em>drifting in and out, I’ll have you know! I just simply, I was…” she licked her lips, “I was comfortable there and- and not sure how to talk to you about anything while Luna was...”</p><p>“Darling,” Narcissa interrupted her, and <em>oh bollocks her heart was going to give out any moment now, wasn’t it? </em>Unfortunate accident be damned. Slytherins were the absolute <em>worst</em>. “You need not worry if you’ve a relationship with Miss Lovegood, I do not mind it at all if you have something of an inclination for witches. I believe I penned that in my letter to you, but you may wish to tell Mr. Weasley if what I wrote <em>is </em>the case.”</p><p>Ah… all right. She pushed off from the shelving and nodded, but kept her eyes focused on the floor. This- this she could deal with. This had a sure element of truth to it, because Luna<em> was </em> beautiful in her own strange, ethereal way, and she <em> may </em> have entertained more than just a slight fancy for the Ravenclaw in the past, especially during their time hunting for Horcruxes as she had so <em> sorely </em>missed female companionship, and it had only branched outward from there. Perhaps a part of her still did, though Luna was quite clearly holding a small flame for Neville now, at least, and the poor wizard still appeared absolutely oblivious to it.</p><p>“Well,” Hermione started, looking up from her feet, “You’ve a keen eye, Narcissa. Luna is… <em> something</em>, but we’re not together like that. Perhaps if things had gone differently in my fifth or sixth year, if we hadn’t been away from Hogwarts my seventh year, if I’d been more or less mature, certainly less judgmental of her.” She scratched her jawline and worried at her lip, realising that she was rambling <em> again</em>. “I <em> do </em>still like wizards in some way, or else I don’t think I would even try with Ron, but…” a soft smile, “Witches are-” a puff of breath loosened up her chest, “something else.”</p><p>Narcissa had taken hold of one of her hands by now and was absentmindedly rubbing circles into her skin with her thumb. “Your compliment of a ‘keen eye’ is welcome, though I must admit that it takes little for a witch who prefers witches to spot another of similar preferences.” Here, she paused, in voice and ministrations, her gaze lost in the distance for a moment. “I would not forfeit any hope with Miss Lovegood. She seems rather fond of you.”</p><p>“Oh, she enjoys my friendly company at times,” Hermione said, letting her hand fall from Narcissa’s to scratch at her head. “But she’s quite taken with Neville Longbottom, I can guarantee that. Though he hasn’t yet noticed it for what it is.”</p><p>What was it about Narcissa’s bright, tinkling laughter that caused her body to react with such warmth? After settling the book in her grasp back into its spot on the shelf, Hermione brought her hands behind her head, resting them against the nape of her neck, grinning quite stupidly now that part of the truth was out, but she didn’t care how she looked. The only thing that seemed to matter to her at the moment was making Narcissa happy.</p><p>“Mr. Longbottom, really?” Narcissa finally said, rather breathlessly. “I shouldn’t be surprised, should I? He hasn’t noticed… oh, the poor wizard is in it for once he does, isn’t he?”</p><p>“Right,” Hermione replied, reaching for anything more to say, but she’d been rendered near speechless now that it had settled in her head that <em> Narcissa Malfoy </em> had just <em> admitted </em> that she was <em> attracted to and preferred witches! </em> Narcissa held a hand over her heart, blue eyes dancing with mirth, and Hermione felt weak in the knees for all matters of good and bad reasons. She cleared her throat and, leaving Narcissa to collect herself, started walking along the main aisle of the library again, investigating books she’d never seen in the Hogwarts library, most for good reason. Others… she could nearly salivate over, as they were mastery and post-mastery level texts about a wide variety of topics. <span>And there was also… something </span><em><span>off </span></em><span>that she sensed, it felt like something </span><em><span>beneath </span></em><span>her feet, but she shoved the curiosity away- she had many more visits in the future, and some other time she could verify the feeling again before bringing it up.</span></p><p>It was as she perused a text entitled <em> Practical Advanced Charms Creation: Design and Implementations Guide </em> that she felt a wave of… <em> despair? </em> wash over her. She couldn't think of a better word, could hardly think at all for the intense waves of emotion that were decidedly <em> not </em>her own. Hurriedly placing the book back into its slot, she turned and exited the row, making her way towards the door that led out of the exquisite library. She found Narcissa seated on a plush chair and rushed over to her, unsure of what she was going to say until her shadow practically covered the other woman’s body entirely.</p><p>Narcissa looked up from a book she’d been reading, eyes sparking with concern as she looked at her and asked, “...Hermione? Is everything all right?”</p><p>For all the words available to her within the English language, which she<em> swore </em> she had a masterful command of, thank you very much, all she could bring herself to do was… clutch a hand over her chest, tugging at the robes that felt so restrictive now. And finally, one word: “<em>Bellatrix</em>.”</p><p>“Oh!” Narcissa nearly jumped out of her seat. “Oh, Merlin, did you bring any of your vials today?” Hermione tried to wrap her mind around the words Narcissa was clearly saying, but she… there was a fog tightening up her mind, suffocating her clarity, making her jaw clench like it was taking all she had to keep from<em> breaking</em>. It almost felt like a Dementor’s presence. She hardly even moved or noticed as Narcissa leaned over in her seat, apologising for some reason as she peeled back her outermost robes and searched for the vials within the inner pockets.</p><p>Like a marionette, she put up no fight as Narcissa uncorked one of the green vials and gently got her to open her mouth, urging her to swallow down the concoction. She did just so, then came a second vial down her throat, and after half a minute she came back to herself, blinking rapidly and shaking her head. “Oh gods, oh… that was the worst it’s ever been. What exactly could make her feel… Narcissa, it was such <em> despair</em>. It hurt like something <em> monstrous</em>.”</p><p>She saw, then felt Narcissa wrap an arm around her shoulders, guiding them out of the library and up the steps towards Bellatrix’s half of the second floor. Narcissa said nothing, but she noted the look of determination on the older witch’s face. And… concern? Well, she supposed it <em> was </em> concerning, because for all the emotions Hermione had gotten a flash of during these past few months- most of a minor nature that she powered through with or without medicinal aid she took by herself- this was unlike any other, even those of Bellatrix distraught over Tom Riddle’s demise. Even <em> those </em> had been tinged with anger, which offset the sadness and eventual resignation in addition to depression, but this… this had only been utter, raw despair.</p><p>It was as they reached a room similar to the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, but much, <em> much </em>larger, that they spotted Bellatrix curled upon herself, right below a magical portrait of…</p><p>“Mother,” Narcissa whispered. Hermione’s eyes widened, moving between the two others in the room and the...</p><p>The portrait of a severe, raven-haired woman dressed in what Hermione presumed to be witches’ robes from the turn of the century (though she knew wizarding clothes lagged far, far behind Muggle clothing) flicked her eyes over towards Narcissa, regarding her youngest child.</p><p>“Ah,” the woman said, her smile tight, “Narcissa, dear, will you <em> please </em> remove your worthless heap of a sister from- pardon, <em> who </em>is that beside you? State your name, girl.”</p><p>Bristling at being referred to as a girl (she was nearly twenty, for Merlin’s sake, thanks to the Time-Turner!), she said, “I’m Hermione Granger. And you… ma’am?”</p><p>“Granger… Granger,” the woman muttered more to herself than anyone else. “That is not a pure-blood name I’m familiar with. Half-blood, then? Did your mother marry some worthless mudblood?” Ah, so she wouldn't even consider the possibility of a <em>Muggle </em>father.</p><p>“Mother…” Narcissa plead, so softly that Hermione wondered if she had been the only one to hear it. Hermione racked her brain, trying to remember the names of the House of Black when she’d leafed through <em> Nature's Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy </em>while hunting for Horcruxes with Ron and Harry. Her mind parsed through the family tree until, just above the three Black sisters…</p><p><em> This </em> was Druella Black née Rosier. Hermione creased her brow, standing her ground.</p><p>“I was born to two <em> wonderful </em> Muggles, Mrs. Black.”</p><p>She braced herself for screeches not unlike Walburga Black’s. She still so clearly remembered those high-pitched cries of<em> mudblood </em> splattering the walls like fresh blood from a murder scene. Yet they never came. Instead, the woman’s face transformed into something so ugly that she almost didn’t appear <em> human </em> anymore. The disgust was frightening on her, and the cutting hiss of revulsion… It almost made her want to grab the two sisters and <em> run</em>, which was one of the most foolish, <em> dangerous </em> thoughts she had ever had, half stemming from the bond (without it, she knew Narcissa would bring Bellatrix along, but <em>she </em>would feel no compulsion to). Even if there <em> were </em> no protection wards keeping her from doing so with Bellatrix, she didn’t need to take care of the Dark witch or <em> rescue </em>her, gods no.</p><p>“You... <em> mudblood... </em> <b> <em>filth</em></b>,” the woman in the portrait seethed, and Hermione stared her painting down all the while. “You <em> dare </em> enter the Most Noble and Ancient House of Black? Dare <em> defile </em> this ancestral home? And <em> twist </em> my daughters into <em> accepting </em> you <em><strong> inside</strong>, lowering our wards</em><em>? </em>” </p><p>Druella Black’s painting raised her wand, carefully hidden beneath the frame of the portrait before, then wordlessly cast… and all of the candlelight went out of the room, but not before she was able to turn to Narcissa and shake her by the shoulders, her own sharp whisper asking, “What is she <em> doing</em>?” Narcissa looked slightly down, catching Hermione’s eyes, and seemed to gather part of herself, enough to rush her mother’s portrait and close the curtains over it.</p><p>She knelt down by her older sister, and Hermione drew her arms around herself, casting a quick<em> lumos </em>to ease the sudden strain on her eyesight. Druella’s voice still came through the curtain, unintelligible, and Hermione heard creaking several meters away. She turned on the ball of her foot and flashed her wand light in the direction of the sound.</p><p>Jaw falling open, Hermione backed further into the drawing room, breath hitching as her eyes roamed over the three animated corpses invading the area. Sparing a second, she glanced over towards Narcissa and Bellatrix; the latter was still lying as an unresponsive heap on the floor, while the former shared a horrified look with Hermione- she hadn't been expecting this. Hermione raised her wand, mentally sifting through all that she knew about Inferi. She remembered Harry telling her and Ron about them at the end of sixth year, after Professor Dumbledore had been murdered.</p><p>She remembered how Professor Dumbledore had… had <em> what</em>?</p><p>“Narcissa!” she cried out, fear coating the way that she said the other woman’s name. She lashed out with a <em> sectumsempra </em>at the three corpses as they came closer, forgoing any guilt at using such Dark magic due to their inhuman state. Wounds appeared without blood, without affecting them at all besides creating empty gashes on their sickly grey skin. “Dumbledore defeated some of these with Harry over a year ago, but I…”</p><p>She glanced at the extinguished fireplace beside the Black sisters.</p><p><em> Fire. </em>That’s why Druella's painting had put out the candles! Panting, Hermione ran in front of the two older women and cast a fire rope charm, Harry’s voice finally coming through to the front of her mind, imagery of Dumbledore binding the Inferi with ropes bursting with flames. She lashed out again with the flaming rope that had shot forth from her wand, striking two of the Inferi with it, slowing them down, then tightly wrapped the flames around the third, burning it to ashes.</p><p>The remaining two continued their slow, limping walk, and she saw a few more encroaching on their space from just outside the door. Druella was continuing to mutter from behind the three of them. Eyes wide with fear, Hermione turned to Narcissa.</p><p>“You’ve got to shut your mother's portrait up. <em> Please</em>, Narcissa, I- I-”</p><p>She felt a bit of the tension ease within her as Narcissa raised her wand, casting first a strong<em> stupefy maxima </em> on the curtained portrait, then added increasingly more complex silencing and negation charms to its magic. With Narcissa’s small but determined voice behind her, Hermione returned to striking the Inferi, slowing them considerably, and then focused on burning one at at a time until, finally- <em> finally</em>, after what felt like hours, eight piles of ash littered the drawing room floor, and she only heard Narcissa’s heavy breathing behind her.</p><p>Collapsing to her knees, Hermione let her wand fall from her left hand. Sweating through her robes from sheer exertion, she looked at the piles of ash around her and then shivered. She stared at the ornate carpet on the floor and shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself.</p><p>When she looked back up slightly, the piles of ash had vanished, and she saw Narcissa’s pale hand extended in front of her face. She reached out with her right hand, grabbing up her wand from the floor with her left, and slowly stood up. Bellatrix had been moved to one of the sofas in the room. It was when she met both sets of eyes that she asked, “What the bloody hell <em> was </em>that?”</p><p>Bellatrix, for all the terror she’d brought upon them, though unintentionally this time through her deceased mother’s portrait, cracked the smallest of horrific grins, deep shadows falling across her face, and made an obscene gesture towards the curtained portrait of Druella Black.</p><p>“That, Granger, was our dear mother invoking a few of the remaining Black family Inferi for her own<em> amusement</em>. Her own <em> fun</em>.” At this, the eldest Black daughter turned to the youngest and said, “Cissy, didn’t I ask you to rid this manor of Mother’s <em> fun</em>?”</p><p>Physically tearing the Black sisters apart was<em> not </em>how she imagined this visit ending.</p><p>She really was grateful that she was an only child.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Returning to Black Manor after seeing Hermione off at Grimmauld Place was either the best or worst idea she'd had in a while, she wasn't entirely sure which yet. Hermione had fussed over her injuries, saying she could heal her, but, <em> "Hermione, I am quite the expert at healing as you should well know- it is partly why my other reparations are done through work at St. Mungo’s. You may watch and learn if you'd like, though?" </em></p><p>
  <em> Hermione had fiddled with her fingers, worrying at her lip. "May I at least heal your face a bit? I know it can be tricky without mirrors." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "Have all the mirrors in this household vanished? Have I suddenly lost the magic to create one of my own?" she jested in good nature. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The younger witch had blushed viciously, and oh, yes, she’d have to thank Andy for cornering her into resolving this “distancing” mishap with Hermione. She'd sorely missed this, been afraid to try again when she had been the one to put distance between them in the first place. Laughing, Narcissa had relented and allowed Hermione to heal the scratch marks and newly forming bruises on her face. As she sat on the sofa in the drawing room, the other woman's right hand delicately gripped the left side of her jaw as she cast upon her facial wounds, tongue between her teeth as she concentrated on the golden glow emitting from the tip of her wand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione Granger was truly a sight to behold as she worked her magic. Narcissa had shut her eyes then, focusing on evening out her breaths. Playful teasing was all right, it was a fine level to stagnate on. She'd missed such a thing with her sisters, had regained it to some degree with both of them. But this was a bit different, almost reminding her of Hogwarts days when Lucius had began to court her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Once Hermione had finished healing her face, she conjured a mirror and let her look over the younger witch's work. Tilting her face from side to side, she hummed her approval, then thanked the younger witch for a job well done. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> "I will see you next week. Settle in at Hogwarts well, Hermione." </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They didn't touch before she left through the Floo, and that was just fine. Just perfect. </em>
</p><p>Now back at Black Manor, she made her way back up to see Bellatrix, check on her, check on what they were going to do about <em> that </em>portrait. She found her older sister sitting in the same drawing room they'd fought in. The darker haired witch turned to see who had come in, tense posture slightly relaxing at the sight of her sister over an impromptu visit from Aurors.</p><p>"Cissy," Bellatrix said, an air of caution applied. "You've healed yourself. Good."</p><p>Narcissa sat down beside her sister, cupping her jaw with a hand, urging Bellatrix to look at her. Dark eyes met her blue ones, and she surveyed Bella's face intently.</p><p>"You've still got some..." she murmured, raising her wand to heal a few wounds that Bellatrix hadn't even attempted to heal. When she finished, Bellatrix gripped her wrist a bit too tightly. All she had to do was whimper a bit, though, and Bella (almost) always relented.</p><p>Bellatrix relaxed the pressure on her little sister's wrist. "We've got to rid this place of all the portraits of Mother. And do a sweep for any others that have a wand hidden in them. I don’t want any more <em> surprises</em>, Cissy."</p><p>So that's exactly what they did, though eventually, Narcissa <em> had </em> to Floo call in a few Aurors to remove the permanent sticking charm on their mother's drawing room portrait. ("Permanent, my arse," Bellatrix groused as the Aurors destroyed that one in particular.) Once the Aurors had left again and Narcissa had removed all other potentially offending portraits, banishing them to the undercroft, she joined Bellatrix in her bedroom, watching Bella sit on the windowsill, legs drawn towards her chest.</p><p>"Mother was a piece of shit."</p><p>"She was," Narcissa agreed, settling down on Bella's mattress. Her older sister turned to meet her eyes.</p><p>"Granger..." she started, chewing lightly at her index finger. "She called you by your first name. I wasn't <em> that </em> out of it."</p><p>Narcissa shrugged. "It was a desperate moment."</p><p>"Do you call her by hers?"</p><p>Her heart nearly seized up. Merlin, how she wished now that Hermione had kept her bloody beautiful mouth shut- wait, <em> beautiful</em>?</p><p>"You do, don't you?" Bellatrix filled in the telling silence for her. Her sister got off the windowsill and roughly grabbed her face by her chin, forcing her to look into those near black eyes. "Does Cissy actually care for the wittle mudbl-" but she stopped herself, eyes bulging as if she might choke on her own tongue if she finished the word.</p><p>"Fuck!" Her sister scratched and brought blood to the underside of her chin as she withdrew her fingers. "Fuck this bloody wretched thing to hell. I <em> want </em> to call her that, but that cursed bond sodding wins out. How in Merlin's sodding <em> name </em> it found that tiny, tiny, <em> tiny </em> part is beyond me. Thought I'd rid myself of it completely before taking the Dark Mark. Fucking hell," she spat out.</p><p>"Black curses are powerful, Bella, you do realise that?" Narcissa asked quietly. "This one searched for <em> any </em> source of care, however minuscule, and if it hadn't found it in the first place, you and Miss Granger would already be dead."</p><p>"Merlin, what I’d give for that sometimes-”</p><p>“Bella!”</p><p>“But you know, this cursed thing has brought back some ever so <em> fond </em> memories. Mudbl- <em> Muggle-borns </em> are fun in their own ways, so long as you hold <em> power </em>over them.” Bellatrix’s lip turned up in a lascivious smirk.</p><p>"Please do refrain from whatever more carnal inclinations you may have," she warned her older sister, picking at one of her nails. She had thought Bellatrix might have had <em> those </em>memories willingly erased.</p><p>Bellatrix turned back towards her and shot her a crude grin. "Aw, does Cissy not want to <em> share </em>the Muggle-born?"</p><p>"I- !" she rested her head in her hands for a moment. "You are positively disgusting, Bellatrix. The only witch I slept with was <a id="return1" name="return1"></a>Alice Fawley<sup>[<a href="#note1">1</a>]</sup>, who was a <em> pure-blood </em> who you happened to help torture into <em> bloody insanity</em>!"</p><p>Pointedly ignoring the latter part entirely, Bellatrix snarked, "I'll be as disgusting as I <em> like </em> when you dare to bring up that Muggle-born girl I shagged at Hogwarts to get underneath our mother’s <em> skin</em>."</p><p>Narcissa looked at her nails as if they were the most interesting things on Earth. "I did not <em> bring </em> her up explicitly- that’s on you. However, I do believe I recall you did more than simply <em> shag </em>her. Do remember that you cannot physically hurt Miss Granger like-"</p><p>"Piss off, Cissy."</p><p>With a <em> "gladly," </em> she quickly checked Bella over once more before sealing the Black Manor Floo and apparating back to Malfoy Manor. The sheer notion of Bella ever even <em> slightly </em> sensing that she felt something more towards Hermione Granger than a begrudging acquaintanceship worked its way into her dreams. More than once she woke up with a sheen of sweat on her skin, praying to whatever gods out there that Bellatrix <em> had </em> only been making a sick joke about incestual threesomes. Bella <em> had </em> always been the one to go beyond the pale.</p><p>She reminded herself, though, that it was <em> she </em> who held the reins over Bella. One good word from her to the Aurors, and her sister would have her wand snapped and never experience her own magic again. With Hermione's trust on her side, she found that she would do anything to keep it, even take away Bella's magic. In the past, that would have worried her- but Bellatrix, <em>Merlin</em>. The younger witch had enough on her plate as it stood.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup>1</sup>We never got a maiden name for Alice Longbottom, so I went with Fawley, another Sacred Twenty-Eight family who- as far as I can tell- had no ties to Voldemort.<sup>[<a href="#return1">return to text</a>]</sup></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>narcissa removes the fail-safe preventing her from entering the undercroft, hermione returns for her final year at hogwarts (meeting two new professors along the way), bellatrix and hermione are left without their intermediary for the first time, hermione attempts to get narcissa to open up to her, and a surprise visitor awaits hermione upon her return to gryffindor tower.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is the longest chapter yet (i believe?). don't expect them to continue this way lol. i simply kept adding shit and could hardly find anything to prune away (i will assume there's <i>something</i> else here i could have cut, but no beta to kick me in the ass about it lmao), nor a place to cut off for the next chapter. so! thanks for reading, hope you all enjoy and are continuing to stay safe. 💛</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Of course, it had been the <em> wards </em> she’d taken down at Black Manor to allow Hermione access that had prevented her from gaining access to the Undercroft. Of bloody <em> course</em>. Her ancestors’ magic had raised their hackles at the sheer <em> notion </em>of lowering the so-called “mudblood wards,” and so had triggered a fail-safe to lock down the hidden lower library and who knows what other hidden parts of the manor she had either misplaced in her mind's eye or had never known about in the first place. Her father <em>had</em> been a rather quiet, yet immensely calculating man.</p><p>She hated herself for having to put the Muggle-born wards back into place, but she managed to convince herself that it wasn’t for good, and at least- or at least she <em> hoped </em>she could somehow copy anything she needed from the Undercroft to take with her outside of it, outside of the manor itself. She would pay in blood or magic if she had to.</p><p>Andy had taught her the replica spell during another one of her visits to the Tonks’ household, and she again cast it within the library, following her own shadowy miniature replica until she reached the patch of flooring right above the hidden room. Moving her wand into her left hand, she used her dominant hand to meticulously and wandlessly trace a glowing silver line around the perimeter of the Undercroft’s “roof,” biting her tongue at the push and pull of her magic as her ancestors’ <em> read </em>her. What she was most surprised by was the amount of Light within the Grey and Dark magic that still came across during these proceedings.</p><p>Their magic read her core, coursed through her veins, and after what felt like several minutes, the floor began to rise into a five tiered dais. When the dais finished forming, a receptacle shimmered into appearance in its raised middle, and she tentatively made the five steps up until she reached it, wondering if the receptacle raised itself to the perfect height for anyone desiring to enter through a donation of their Black blood.</p><p>She only hoped that enough of her blood was still <em> Black </em> for this true receptacle, as it had been so for the replica. Narcissa laid her hand palm side up over the bowl, waiting for something to reach for her skin to prick it, but- <em> nothing</em>. Then, after a long moment, several strong invisible pricks breached the skin of her palm and fingers until blood began to spill over the sides of her hand. Hissing from the sharp pain, she watched as the bottom of the small bowl took her so-called “<em>precious pure blood</em>,” watched as it vanished, groaning in relief as a powerful healing spell washed over her hand and closed the wounds.</p><p>It had worked.</p><p>Hermione’s voice, thick with disgust, inexplicably entered her mind- <em> “Narcissa, this is </em> barbaric<em>. Injuring your own </em>family<em> for access to information??” </em>The Muggle-born witch would have had a field day seeing this pure-blood gate, and for all Narcissa wished she could tell her about it, she didn’t want to fill the woman with false hope on her progress in creating the suppressant. All she could do for Hermione was follow the rounded staircase down, down, down, until she emerged in the Undercroft.</p><p>Previously unlit fire torches sprang to life, lighting the way as she took her first steps into the hidden library addition. So like the dungeons of Hogwarts, she did a quick scan of the area, counting the several bookcases, noting the two long desks, potions workstation, and what appeared to be an ancient blood ritual altar. For however docile her father had seemed compared to her mother, the Blacks were… she swallowed hard, making her way to the shelves of books she had never before set eyes on.</p><p>Too many of them were disgruntled at the amount of <em> Malfoy </em> in her magic, in her blood, snapping at her or otherwise trying to cause her harm, but what was she supposed to have done? Married one of her Black <em> cousins</em>? She felt sick at the idea of having relations with <em> Sirius </em> or <em> Regulus</em>- she had mourned them both, but <em> Merlin</em>. They’d been her playmates, like younger brothers to her that she (sometimes begrudgingly) took care of when they visited. But she knew that too many of her ancestors had had carnal relations with much closer than cousins, and also knew it was a wonder that she and her sisters had come out decently all right from it all. Barring Bellatrix, of course, but she was another story. An entirely regrettable story, seeing over the years the proof that the Bellatrix Black she had unconditionally loved and adored and looked up to as a child was gone. That Bella would have done anything for her, fallen to her knees seeking forgiveness from the sister she loved more than Andromeda, the one she had always preferred, at least in Narcissa’s memories. It was regrettable what had become of them, regrettable that Bellatrix's actions as a Death Eater caused more and more chasms in the foundation of their relationship. Their entire childhood was regrettable, but nothing could be done about it now. What was more important, what she still <em> could </em> do, was continue to look for ways to suppress and further heal the cursed injury her sister had left upon Hermione Granger. <em> That </em>was also regrettable, but it could still be fixed.</p><p>And so she scoured the Undercroft, losing track of time until some two and a half hours later she heard her stomach grumbling for proper nourishment. She shut the sixth tome on blood bonding that she had picked off the shelves, copying more notes to go over further before shrinking and pocketing all of them, and exited the Undercroft feeling more hopeful than she had in weeks.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>One of the school owls dropped an officially sealed Hogwarts envelope in front of her dinner plate on the first evening back at the castle. Hermione picked it up, slicing it open with a bit of wandless magic that she’d made progress with, and read the careful script of the new Headmistress.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Miss Granger, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> As we discussed in prior owls, because the Head Girl, Eloise Midgen, is from Hufflepuff, and you are the only female student from your House year who has elected to return to fully finish out their seventh year, your belongings have been placed in the empty Gryffindor Head Girl dormitory quarters. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Furthermore, you are given leave on Thursday evenings to continue your arrangement with Madam Black at Black Manor. As before, Narcissa Malfoy will continue to accompany you during these visits. You are to return before eleven o'clock. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Additionally, the Head Girl’s dormitory comes equipped with a fireplace. Typically, we do not activate these for the Floo Network, but the Ministry has given special dispensation for your individual case. Only you or I may access the Floo through this fireplace, unless someone else is given access to come through- then they will be able to return to their Floo point of origin. It will open on Thursday evenings at eight o’clock for your visits to Black Manor and will seal each time you arrive back at Hogwarts. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> At any time, you may head-only transport to Malfoy Manor if you’ve need contact Narcissa Malfoy. She has requested access for full-body transport from her side in the case of emergencies, and I leave that decision to you. Please inform me of your choice before the end of this week. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Sincerely, </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Headmistress Minerva McGonagall </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Glancing up at the Head Table, Hermione met the Headmistress’s gaze, giving her a small nod to show that she had read and understood the letter. When she looked back at the Gryffindor table before her, it was a strange sight to only see one red-headed Weasley. At least Neville had come back to have a proper seventh year, though he’d already said he might take his N.E.W.T.s early and take leave to pursue his Herbology mastery with Professor Sprout starting the spring term.</p><p>Another strange sight was one Luna Lovegood making herself at home at the Gryffindor table, deliberately brushing her fingers against Neville’s as she gathered green beans onto her plate. Hermione spied the lightest of blushes on the younger witch as Neville slowly moved his hand, wrapping slightly trembling fingers around his fork. Curious.</p><p>“Nan said I didn’t have to return,” he said to them while they dug into their welcoming feast, “but I told her I <em> needed </em>to. Needed to see Hogwarts returning to normal again, leave on a better note, sans those bloody Death Eaters running the place.” He grinned, then looked at her and asked, “What about you, Hermione?”</p><p>“I…” she started, stabbing a broccoli floret (complete with the most <em> delicious </em> melted cheese on top) with her fork. “Those same reasons, and of course I missed my entire seventh year. I wanted to finish… this entire experience, even if delayed, and also take my N.E.W.T.s. I’ve practically been revising for them since fourth year, you see.”</p><p>“It would feel like a waste then, to not finish properly, yes?” Luna asked, chin resting in the palm of her hand, gazing intently at her. Somehow the younger witch had already finished most of her meal and was sipping on her goblet of pumpkin juice. She didn’t know why, but her mind short-circuited back to the first day at Black Manor, when Narcissa had verbally suggested something between she and the Ravenclaw.</p><p>Luna was… rather lovely, and cute, and maybe in another time. Maybe if she wasn’t interested in Neville, who <em> had </em> grown into his adult figure handsomely. (And maybe if she wasn’t in <em> whatever </em> with Narcissa.) But she was happy to be the blonde’s friend. Though for Merlin's sake, the witch could look at her less <em> intensely</em>.</p><p>She nodded. “Right. I’d like a hint of normalcy, too.”</p><p>“Whatever hint you can get, yeah?” Ginny jibed, nearly snorting into her goblet. Lowering her voice, she continued more seriously, “What with Black and all. How’s that been, by the way?”</p><p>“Well, she calls me Granger now instead of that slur. Not sure how much of that is actually her, though. Likely very little.”</p><p>Ginny barked out a hearty laugh. “And it’s been, what? About four months?”</p><p>Hermione shrugged. “She’s still a right stick in my arse, but well, she is a Black. And the eldest one at that.”</p><p>“Let us know if you ever need anything, will you?” Neville said, reaching over and placing his hand over one of hers. She gave him a gentle, reassuring smile- “I will,” and pressed her other hand on his, squeezing softly.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Settling on her four-poster bed after unpacking her trunk (carefully leaving the Loonar Loop Luminators from Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes tucked away by themselves, safe from accidental lighting), Hermione sat cross-legged and took in the large room before her. The fireplace sat a few meters in front of the four-poster, surrounded by a sofa as well as two armchairs and a deep ruby red carpet that lay underneath the coffee table. A few bookcases sat against both of the walls to her left and right. To the left side of the room was a desk to work at and a potions workstation in a small secluded alcove with a vent to the outside. On the right side of the room was another larger alcove to sit in and a double-door that led out onto a balcony with the most beautiful view of the Scottish Highlands that surrounded Hogwarts. And finally, to the direct right of the fireplace was a door to her own bathroom.</p><p>Everything in the room was standard for the Head Girl and Boy positions, something she was out of the running for as she was <em> technically </em>an eighth year taking her seventh year courses and N.E.W.T.s late. When Professor McGonagall had told her about it before term started, she’d taken an evening to mourn the possibility of it coming to pass. All because of a bloody genocidal maniac and his bloody ignoramus sycophants. She’d grumbled about it around Bellatrix during one of their visits the previous month, to which she’d received a, “Grow a bloody pair, Granger. It’s not the end of the world.”</p><p><em> “Thanks for the suggestion, Black,” she’d said, sarcasm dripping, “But if you hadn’t noticed, there’s not a chance of me </em> actually <em> dropping any bollocks, considering I’m a witch not a wizard, thank you very much.” </em></p><p>Narcissa’s reaction to it- a slight tug of her lips that <em> almost </em> looked like a smirk- had given her slight hope that the distance could fade between them. On top of that, it had made her heart ache and sing in the most pleasantly frustrating way. Never mind that Bellatrix had the comeback of a potion and <em> partial </em> human transfiguration being a thing that some took advantage of in “certain ways," winking at her lasciviously. She’d shown her reaction plain and clear like the damned Gryffindor she was and had gotten a “<em>prude</em>” remark for it from Bellatrix.</p><p>
  <em> Blushing furiously, she’d snapped, “You know well enough that I’m not!” </em>
</p><p><em> “Just because you’ve fucked the ginger blood-traitor lad a few times,” Bellatrix drawled, disdain in her eyes, “doesn’t mean you’ve instantaneously lost your prude card, Granger. Only that you’re a bit… less… </em> tight.<em>” Her smirk belonged in the depths of whatever hell might exist. </em></p><p><em> She shivered, hating that Narcissa was hearing about this yet </em> again<em>. “Merlin, you’re absolutely disgusting.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Taken as a compliment, thank you very much, pet. Be grateful I still haven’t interrupted your… intimate times. You’ve done well enough a job of that yourself, if this rubbish bond has you pegged right.” </em>
</p><p>Gods, Merlin, Morgana, whomever else, she hadn’t been able to <em> look </em> Narcissa in the eye after that visit. Narcissa had been oddly quiet as well, but had grazed their fingers - those of her left hand, Narcissa’s right - as they took the Floo back to Grimmauld Place. It had been before term, before transferring Bellatrix to Black Manor, before they erased the distance and started bantering with each other again, but she realised later what that incredibly warm feeling had been as Narcissa brushed the skin of their fingers together, as if lightly playing with her hand, <em> teasing </em> almost. The same hand that rubbed at her own clit, gathering slick wetness and entering herself, stretching her inner walls, <em> touching </em>herself until she came. The same hand that wanted...</p><p><em> Fuck. </em> She laid back on the still made up bedsheets, thumping the back of her head against them a few times as she struggled with whatever the hell she was feeling for Narcissa Malfoy. She was <em> attracted </em> to her, yes, but it would pass. Ron should be enough, more than enough, he was her <em> boyfriend</em>! But he was spending more and more time in the field lately, as there were still former Death Eaters evading Ministry capture, and he still wasn’t… gods, was this how it was supposed to be? Was this the best of the best? Was this how it was <em> supposed </em> to feel? Was this really natural, the sparse communication, his leaning on her in his letters without much attempts at truly asking about her? Granted, she never was <em>that</em> forthcoming with him, but she- she couldn’t ask Ginny, she was his <em> sister</em>, and Luna… hell no. Suddenly she wished she had more female friends she could talk to. She certainly wasn’t close enough to Angelina Johnson, who had started hanging around George Weasley quite a bit, to attempt this sort of conversation. And Fleur... she was always traveling, or on the rare occasion that she <em>wasn't</em>, she steeped in work at Gringotts, and she didn't want to burden the French witch any more than she already had. She should write Ron, really, maybe it would bring some spark back to her, though that only made her wonder if it’d ever been there to start with, or...</p><p>It was nearly eleven o’clock. She needed to get ready for bed and <em> not </em>think about this, which would be a feat for her, but one she would manage most assuredly. Starting with peeling back her bedsheets and ending with a blissfully warm shower, she took her last trip to the loo (until perhaps later in the night), as well as a small measured extra swig from Andromeda’s reformulated bladder potion that had been created for her. She made a quick note on parchment of how much more she took and marked the date on her hospital calendar and medicinal journal that Andy had given her before term began. She also noted that her next appointment with “Healer A. Tonks” was in October, if nothing urgent came up before.</p><p>She yawned on the way back to her unmade bed and settled in for the night, nearly at the edge of sleep- though flitting images of Narcissa passed through the front of her mind- when she heard a rustle of feathers and the now almost familiar weight of Leonis on her stomach. An envelope was dropped onto her chest and she gestured the owl towards the treat feeder, magically primed to expel a few when an owl first came through the magical opening in her balcony window.</p><p>Turning onto her side, she slid her finger under the seal and opened the envelope, unfolding the letter and holding it just under her <em> lumos </em>casting.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Hermione, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Do forgive me if Leonis interrupts your sleep. It almost slipped my mind that Minerva was to inform you tonight about the Floo connection in your dormitory quarters, and I wished to make a few comments while the subject is fresh in mind. You may use head-only transport to reach me at Malfoy Manor whenever needed; I will feel a certain tug on my magic if you choose to utilise this. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> If I may borrow one of your Gryffindor traits and be so bold, I hope you will choose to allow my entrance into your quarters should an emergency need arise. I do not wish for you to run low or out of your vials ever again, but especially not with your being at Hogwarts for your final year now. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Best wishes for your first week- I tried to convince Draco to return, but I will have to live with his decision to work at the Ministry. I do hope Hogwarts is back to some semblance of normality throughout the castle. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Warmly, </em> <em><br/>
</em> <em> Narcissa </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> P. S. My son has brought up the BSRA again and has informed me that you have not contacted him further about it. There is no rush, though Draco would say otherwise- but do let him know before the end of this month.<br/>
</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>She’d write back in the morning to confirm with the older witch that she would get in touch with her son before the end of September. Of course she was going to join the BSRA, she’d made her mind up after reading the documents that had been sent to her earlier, but… the entire <em> thing </em>with Bellatrix had rather much consumed her headspace. She turned on her side and welcomed sleep, the last thing on her mind- her fingers trailing over Narcissa's handwriting, imagining her as she wrote the letter- keeping her dreams pleasant.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Hermione would accept nothing less than Outstandings on all seven of her N.E.W.T. subjects. This was non-negotiable. Therefore, she had already prepared herself by purchasing extra reading material for all seven classes she was taking: Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Ancient Runes, and Arithmancy. She’d also purchased an extendable, sortable, cubed bookcase for revising that she placed against one of the few spare spaces of wall left in her quarters.</p><p>Enlarged to its regular state, the cubed bookcase was divided into two perfectly square shelf sections but could extend to six times the size. She didn’t need twelve cube sections of bookcase, but did extend it to seven: four on the bottom row, three on the top, and sorted her revising materials by subject after labeling the topmost shelving of each section with their associated subject.</p><p>Harry and Ron would tease her endlessly about it, she knew. And instead of feeling annoyed and exasperated by the sheer idea of it… she missed them. Terribly so, like they were phantom appendages, which in all rights they were, had been nearly glued to each other’s sides barring the times they’d had rows or spats between them. She wondered if even the smallest part of them had second thoughts about <em> not </em>coming back for their delayed seventh year. But… no, they had both been excited about the prospect of a fast-track onto the Auror team, jumping at the chance to get right into hunting down remaining Death Eaters after completing their initial training. They told her they hadn’t gone through everything only for some stray Riddle lackeys to gather strength again.</p><p>So… when it came down to it, no matter what her thoughts were, they were moot points.</p><p>Her delayed seventh year was their entirely missed and forgone seventh year.</p><p>It still didn’t stop her from missing them, because they'd <em>always </em>been there before.</p><p>She wasn't used to it, but at least she had Ginny, Luna, and Neville, plus the majority of the same professors. It was only on Thursday morning, her first day of N.E.W.T.-level Transfiguration, that she had to contend with… her timetable read “Lewis Marlowe,” and after lunch the very same day a “Merula Snyde” for Defence. Whispers ran through the Great Hall about both professors, as they had apparently attended Hogwarts at around the same time during the 1980s, Professor Snyde a bit younger, leaving the term before she and her friends had started their first year in the autumn of 1991.</p><p>She idly wondered what it must have been like to attend Hogwarts in the immediate aftermath of Tom Riddle’s first defeat and before Harry Potter’s arrival. She had initially figured it was likely rather peaceful, but that thought was put to rest as Professor Marlowe, a man eight years her senior (at least, without her usage of the Time-Turner factoring in), came walking into the classroom with a jagged scar that traveled over his magical right eye and a suspicious creaking noise that he clarified came from his copper-made left leg prosthesis.</p><p>“Even without a Mr. Harry Potter roaming the halls of this esteemed educational institution,” he said, leaning against the desk at the front of the classroom, “the Eighties were their own bleeding mess of cursed vaults and Dark arts practitioners oozing out of the walls themselves. They’re why I have this,” the Gryffindor alumnus gestured to his copper-made prosthetic leg, trouser leg still pulled halfway up, “though the eye is from an incident during my Auror days. Never fear, my eye is not as powerful as Alastor Moody’s was. Never was a fan of how he could see nearly every bloody thing. I’d rather not a look at anyone’s knickers or pants, thank you kindly.</p><p>“Any road,” he continued, his Liverpudlian accent shining through, “we’ll be working through a curriculum that is half what the Headmistress already had plans for and half of my own making. I dealt with an abundance of Transfiguration in my Auror days and am part way through my mastery after making an ‘O’ on my own Transfiguration N.E.W.T. examination in the spring of ninety.”</p><p>She liked him, Scouser way of speaking and all. He’d planned to even mesh his own curriculum with what Professor McGonagall had outlined if she hadn’t become Headmistress, which was more than enough to show that he highly valued and respected her expertise, but also found fit to incorporate his own methods. Yes, she liked him immediately.</p><p>It was Professor Snyde who was… probably, <em> maybe </em> going to give her trouble. The professor sat on her desk in the Defence classroom, absentmindedly swinging her legs a bit as the seventh and eighth years trickled into the classroom. She half-sneered at them, then after taking roll immediately launched into the first lesson without so much of an introduction, save for the <em> Professor Merula Snyde </em>that was written on the chalkboard behind her.</p><p>She let them know in no short terms that she was not here to play around as she assigned a five foot essay on the basics of Occlumency that was due in a week’s time. Their textbook, <em> Most Potente Dark Arts and The Defences Against Them</em>, was easily one of the best texts on Defence that they’d had assigned during her time at the school, and honestly, towards the end of the class, Hermione thought she might like this. A no-nonsense professor, somewhat like McGonagall, but with an obvious chip on her shoulder that she shouldn’t prod at.</p><p>However, that didn’t mean everyone saw the chip in the same way, or even saw it at all. <em> Some </em>decided to purposely poke at it towards the end of the class.</p><p>“Professor,” a seventh year Slytherin sitting in the front row said, likely self-assured in his questioning since their professor had also been in Slytherin, “What’s your take on the Defence posting curse?”</p><p>Professor Snyde flicked harmless but threatening green sparks at the student. “This job has been jinxed for ages, Mr. Sallow, but I’ve heard rumours that Tom Riddle,” she nearly spat the name out, “was the one who put the curse on it, and he’s dead. So we’ll see if I’m still here after spring term. Whether I'm here or not after this year shouldn't concern you lot, anyway.”</p><p>Talk of something besides the lesson? Oh, it opened the floodgates for other, more personal, questions. Questions about the Snyde family, cursed vaults, Patricia Rakepick, and a certain Hufflepuff woman who people had heard<em> romantic </em> rumours of when it concerned Snyde. Hermione wondered why she hadn’t heard of this woman or about <em> any </em> of this from Bill or Charlie Weasley, considering they'd attended Hogwarts in the 1980s. There was also the fact that she hadn't come across any of this in her readings of <em> Hogwarts: A History</em>, which was a grievous oversight!</p><p>With a huff, the professor started doling out detentions for “such asinine personal questions,” walking the length of their desks, row after row, until she reached Hermione and Neville. Unafraid, she made direct eye contact with the older witch’s stark violet eyes.</p><p>“Would either of you have questions that you’re simply <em> dying </em> to know the answers to? While the floor is apparently so <em> open </em>without my explicit permission?” The woman blinked impishly at them.</p><p>Neville shook his head quietly, shrinking in on himself, while Hermione pursed her lips and creased her brow. Her Gryffindor recklessness overpowered her cool logic, because <em> how dare she make Neville feel like this! </em> Casting aside her earlier notion of not prodding that chip on Snyde’s shoulder, she point-blank asked, “Why take this position if you weren’t ready for the personal questions, <em> Professor</em>?”</p><p>The Slytherin ran her tongue across her lower lip, eyes flashing dangerously. “Oh, yes, Miss <em> Granger</em>. Student celebrity of the present time, yes? You should know as well as I that there are some things you wish to keep <em> private</em>. But it seems your title of <em> brightest witch of her age </em>might not be as accurate as they say if you can’t understand such a simple thing.”</p><p>Snyde brought her wand down against the desk with a deafening <em> smack</em>. “Detention, Miss Granger. Friday evening, eight o’clock, meet me in my office. You will not be late.” </p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“You Slytherins are going to be the absolute death of me,” she said as she exited the Floo connected fireplace in Black Manor, spotting Narcissa sitting on a settee. Narcissa laughed, and it reminded Hermione of skipping stones with Ron during the war- that lightweight, happy bliss, disconnecting from everything pressing in on them, threatening to suffocate.</p><p>“We do so enjoy tormenting Gryffindors as one of our pastimes,” Narcissa lightly teased as she led the way out of the first floor sitting room. “But who, pray tell, is this new Slytherin who has you in a bind? Or is it a Slytherin you already know?”</p><p>Hermione grumbled under her breath for a moment, then, “It’s the new Defence professor, Merula Snyde.”</p><p>If it weren’t for the time she had spent in Narcissa Malfoy’s company over the past few months, she wouldn’t have noticed it. But she did. The older witch froze for the space of a second, her heeled foot stuttering on the ornate marble flooring. But then she was acting herself again, as if the name…</p><p>“Has she told you anything about herself?” Narcissa asked, and Hermione plainly noticed the put-upon indifferent tone she applied to her question. Something wasn’t right. Something was piquing her ever-so-unsatisfied curiosity. But she answered honestly, that no, she hadn’t explicitly talked about herself, but the other students in the classroom had brought up enough to fill in major blanks and create even <em> more </em>questions without answers.</p><p>Narcissa gestured her over to a pair of seats next to the wall of a first floor corridor. After sitting in the remaining seat she rubbed her hands together, tension rising underneath her skin as Narcissa looked to gather her words together. With a heavy sigh, the older witch finally spoke.</p><p>“It is... not my place to speak for Ms. Snyde, but she has gone through… something not unlike what you and your friends did, Hermione.” Narcissa paused, then, “The two eldest Weasley children and my sister's daughter have never spoken to you of Ms. Snyde, have they? Or much about their time at Hogwarts?”</p><p>Hermione shook her head, nervously chewing on her lower lip.</p><p>“There is a reason for that, Hermione. All I can say is try and be kind. She is, to use a Muggle saying Andy has tipped me off to, all bark and no bite.”</p><p>“Well,” Hermione said sullenly, her shoulders drooping, “might already be too late for that. Half or more of my class has detention with her, including myself. Mine is… tomorrow at eight in the evening.” She winced at the admission, deflating like a balloon that had been rudely popped. She’d felt defiant in front of Professor Snyde, but didn’t want to disappoint Narcissa. Some part of her felt she already had.</p><p>Penitent brown eyes looked up, meeting Narcissa’s glacial blue, and she felt a gentle nudge at the tip of her mind, as if asking permission. Swallowing thickly, not trusting her own words anymore, she nodded. All at once, she felt another presence in her memories, softly regarding a specific one at the forefront of Hermione’s mind: Professor Snyde goading she and Neville on, Neville shrinking in on himself, and she being a rude prat because- and here an image of Severus Snape in the potions dungeon flashed by her memories. <em> She reminded me of him, </em>the thought came across her mind.</p><p>Once she’d seen everything, Narcissa gently withdrew from Hermione’s mind, resting a hand on Hermione's shoulder. “And here I thought that without Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley by your side you might not get into as much trouble.” Hermione blinked as if in a daze, but found herself smiling as she recognised the teasing tone, all distress at least temporarily forgotten, because Narcissa <em> wasn’t </em>disappointed in her now that she knew the full story.</p><p>“I’m a Gryffindor, what do you expect?” she ribbed right back, gesturing to the red lining of her school robes, then got up on her feet and headed upstairs, towards Bellatrix’s wing. Turning around to walk backward for a few moments, she grinned lopsidedly at Narcissa who was shaking her head in false exasperation.</p><p>Then, with a sly curve of her lips, Narcissa said, “Do behave yourself at detention, Miss Granger. I will know if you don’t.”</p><p>
  <em> Oh, Merlin and Morgana. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> ----- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa found it fit to leave Bellatrix and her alone this evening, though not without extra warning. “If there is one strike made that is meant to cause acute harm between the two of you, I <em> will </em> know, and I will <em> not </em> hesitate to bring my wrath down on either one of you. The contract does <em> not </em>include myself in such a way. Do please try to get along for all of our sakes. I would rather dislike ruining my nails.”</p><p>The blonde witch’s footsteps echoed down the corridors until Hermione’s attention was catapulted back into the room at the sound of Bellatrix’s laughter. Half the cackle she was unfortunately used to, half… decidedly almost <em> normal</em>? She turned on the spot and found Bellatrix skirting the line of the wards that kept them one meter apart.</p><p>“Y-you can’t come closer,” Hermione said, twitching at the stammer that came through- she was stronger than this, she <em> was</em>. The bond itself was still somewhat relaxed due to their close proximity, but it didn’t take away her memories, and without Narcissa here like she always had been before, she didn’t feel as willing to get any closer than she already was. What if Bellatrix had only been able to hold herself back <em> because </em> of her younger sister’s presence? With widened eyes, she also realised that Narcissa had been her <em> safety net. </em></p><p>Bellatrix grinned maliciously, and oh gods, yet again she was at least grateful they’d done something to fix the woman’s horrendous teeth after the war. “My sister talks as if she doesn’t trust that the Aurors’ wards will hold up. I wonder…”</p><p>The Dark witch pressed against the ward with her fingers, both watching as it shimmered from the contact, and something akin to burgundy sparks lashed out and struck Bellatrix all the way up her arm. She hummed through her slight wince and pressed again, harder. She hardly reacted to the way the sparks licked at her skin like coils of fire.</p><p>“Those Aurors… idiots,” Bellatrix murmured, more to herself than to Hermione. “A few testy sparks? Child’s play to someone who was a Death Eater, to someone who’s been put through the Cruciatus by the Dark Lord himself…” And as her words trailed off, her eyes focused again on Hermione, and she pierced her arm through the wards, fingers grasping onto Hermione’s buttoned-up collar and school tie, pulling her until they were nearly flush against each other.</p><p><em> Breathe. Breathe, Hermione, </em> she told herself as her chest tightened uncomfortably, like it did before a panic attack. She went through the reality of the situation: they were in Black Manor, she was <em>not </em>pinned to the parlour floor of Malfoy Manor. She had not been on the run for a few months now. Bellatrix hardly had any of her magic back. She could not, <em> would </em> not <strong>ever</strong> cast <em> crucio </em> on her again. She managed to stare the other woman down and slow her breathing.</p><p>“Hello, pet,” she whispered, grinning wickedly at her. Hermione tried to stop herself from trembling as Bellatrix tightened her grip. But then, as soon as she tightened it to such a constricting point, she immediately released her fingers. Scowling, she drew back until the wards had a chance to right themselves again. She wondered if the Aurors would come since they had been splintered for a few moments, but she heard nothing.</p><p>“Of course I can bloody well handle a <em> crucio </em> from him, but not your bloody damn <em> emotions </em> feeding into me like white-hot <em> lightning</em>! Merlin, <em> fuck</em>, it’s <em> worse </em> when you’re here, it’s <em> better</em>, I fucking... sodding hell!” Bellatrix stomped over to the bed frame and kicked it repeatedly until Hermione, panting to regain her regular breathing, whimpered from the reciprocal pain.</p><p>Bellatrix’s eyes flashed to hers, betraying, softening slightly. One and the same, and the emotions continued to ramp up further and faster by being in the same room, so close to one another. Hermione knew she could fight it,<em> would </em> fight it. This woman had fucking tortured her, broken part of her, and even if she hadn’t done that, she had done… she’d never forget Neville’s parents. Or the sordid tales she’d overheard about Muggle-hunting, likening the murder of Muggles like her <em> parents </em> to <em> sport</em>. She grit her teeth and walked over to a window, staring out onto the far-reaching grounds.</p><p>It was the bond, it was. After it was extinguished, she… she wanted Bellatrix shipped off to Azkaban, perhaps procuring a Dementor specially for her, <em> only </em>for her. She wouldn’t forgive Bellatrix for anything she’d done to her or anyone else she’d hurt. Draco Malfoy was one story, while Bellatrix was something completely else. If she had known Bellatrix as a teenager, well- that was a moot point, and from what she’d heard from the witch’s mouth herself, she’d already been well on her way to… to what she had eventually become. A torturer. A murderer. Someone who was best known as the Death Eater who had a special penchant for the Cruciatus curse.</p><p>Bellatrix, through the bond, flickered hot and cold even more so than Narcissa did. Though, admittedly, Hermione was guilty of the same: she remembered Bellatrix’s curled up form beneath Druella’s portrait, the taut tension from the bond aching to go to the older witch, and she had only balanced it out by looking at Narcissa and adding her into the equation with some <em> real </em>feelings that were completely her own. She hadn’t gotten anything out of either sister regarding their mother, knew better than to test things by prying too much, but she had inklings.</p><p>Power. Control. Dominance. And likely humiliation and degradation as well.</p><p>“This is utter shite,” Bellatrix mumbled then, her eyes piercing Hermione’s back. “Fetch <em> Narcissa</em>, it’s easier with her here.” The way she said Narcissa’s full name, enunciating the syllables, rubbed her the wrong way.</p><p>Turning around, Hermione defiantly crossed her arms over her chest. “No, we need to learn how to do this without her being in the same room <em> literally </em>babysitting us.”</p><p>Bellatrix’s eyes flashed with something dangerous. “Would you rather I call her here by <em> hurting </em>you so much that she has to come running? Or I could scream, or a number of things that could send her running...” The older witch tapped her chin thoughtfully.</p><p>“Oh… oh Merlin you’re seriously considering the options, aren’t you?” she groaned, wondering when Bellatrix had switched to not caring about the repercussions it could have on her younger sister.</p><p>Bellatrix snapped at that. “I am in <em> no </em> mood for any of your inane questions! Just go and bloody get her, will you!” She jabbed an index finger towards the door. Hermione nodded a few times then rushed out of the room, down corridors until she heard the telltale <em> click </em>of heels in the distance. She continued down the corridor, made a sharp turn, and nearly ran straight into a wandering Narcissa Malfoy.</p><p>The witch initially reacted as if she bumped into a corporeal ghost, going by her wide-eyed and defensive stance, wand appearing in her right hand. But the instant she recognised Hermione she let out a steadying breath, relaxing her posture somewhat as she sheathed her wand, then asked with concern lining her face, eyes traveling the length of Hermione's body, “Has Bellatrix done something? I thought I would be called-”</p><p>“She tested the Aurors’ wards- you were right in supposing they might not be strong enough for her- no, I’m all right! I’m- I’ll be fine,” she rested a comforting hand on Narcissa’s upper arm as the woman made to look her over, “She… what happened, she wants you back with us.” She licked her lips, still catching her breath. “I said you shouldn’t have to be there, but s-she said either find you, or she could… well. Make you come through her own methods.”</p><p>A soft, short, “Oh,” was all Narcissa gave her before starting to follow her back towards the other wing. The silence in the corridors was deafening. While she wasn’t sure what all she was taking Narcissa away from during these visits, it was clear to her now that Narcissa <em> surely </em> had better things to do than babysit her and Bellatrix. She thought back to the contract, knowing they could mutually break it, knowing there had to be a few loopholes she was sure she could find if she actually tried. Though she’d gotten Narcissa out of making an Unbreakable Vow and she had willingly agreed to the lesser magical contract in May, she… she didn’t feel as right about it anymore.</p><p>“How is Draco? I’ve been thinking more about him and the BSRA lately,” she said, materialising the topic out of thin air, anything to end the silence between them, except for the sounds of their shoes against the flooring. Narcissa turned to her, blue eyes glinting in the evening candlelight, likely trying to search her face for an ulterior motive. Which, well, was very Slytherin of her to think in such a way and innocently accurate- she'd just wanted to end the silence! And well, Narcissa loved her son without a doubt, shouldn’t she <em> want </em>to talk about him? The corners of her lips turned up and she shrugged her shoulders at the older witch’s appraising stare.</p><p>Narcissa pushed some of her blonde hair behind her ear. “He’s well. He is working in the offices of the DMLE and continues to find purpose in everything he does.” Hermione so desperately wanted to believe the woman, but the small resigned sigh she let go of after speaking, combined with the cool tone tinged with some sort of despondency attached to her words didn’t reassure her at all.</p><p>Sticking her hands into the outer pockets of her robes, Hermione wet her lips. “You know, you don’t have to put it on for me. No one is listening to us to try and catch you...” her voice went soft and tapered off. Catch her lying? Falsifying information so she wasn't seen <em> complaining </em> about the truth? She didn’t want to accuse Narcissa of that, but she also didn’t like that she was hiding the truth from her. She wasn’t going to <em> report </em> her for, for likely feeling <em> down </em> about the fate of her immediate family members. That was a natural emotion to feel, because she was <em> sure </em>that she’d had bigger and better hopes for her son, at least, than him working in some quill dragging office position.</p><p>“Catch me… <em> what</em>, Miss Granger?” Narcissa inquired, and she looked back up at the older witch only to find her eyebrows raised. Hermione grit her teeth together, irritated at the switch back to formal address. They still weren’t <em> that </em>close to Bellatrix’s quarters!</p><p>She stopped and stood her ground, working all of her sincerity into her measured tone. “All I’m saying is, you can be honest with me. I’m not going to use it against you, Narcissa, if you’re not pleased with the way Draco’s life is at the moment. I’m sure you wanted… <em> want </em> more for him.” At the way Narcissa looked at her, then away, then back, she found herself fiddling with the fabric lint balls in her pockets to distract herself.</p><p>“Why… why do you care, Hermione?” Narcissa finally questioned her softly.</p><p>Oh, Merlin could she <em> laugh </em> at that, but she didn’t. She only cracked a small smile and shook her head in disbelief. “How can I <em> not</em>? That’s the better question. I’m… <em> this </em> is what friendship is to me. Caring about each other without sinister ulterior motivations. You’ve proven on more than one occasion that you, well, feel <em> something </em> for me, to do what you’ve done, but I haven’t much of a chance to give back yet, and it doesn’t <em> feel right</em>. It doesn’t have to be even reciprocity all the time, but… I know things aren’t easy for anyone now, and I, I… I can’t ignore when I feel something’s wrong with someone I-” she swallowed hard, “someone I've come to care about, all right?”</p><p>Hermione watched as Narcissa blinked owlishly at her, as if sizing her up. She felt no prodding against her mind, thankful for that one reassurance. </p><p>“But have I done things for you in the way you believe, out of some so-called goodness of heart?” Narcissa finally spoke, her voice wavering. “You saved my eldest sister from death in May, even if it was only to remove that cursed scar on your arm. You helped save my <em> son </em>during the battle- yes, Mr. Potter corroborated Draco’s story-” the older witch looked like she might crumble in on herself, one of her hands resting against her forehead as she looked at Hermione like she was some rare and precious magical oddity. “How do you know that I haven’t merely shown the barest modicum of virtue towards you to serve to settle my own conscience for what my family did to-”</p><p>She heard Narcissa's breath hitch in her throat, and Hermione closed the small distance between them, fingers wrapping around Narcissa’s shoulders. “I’m the so-called brightest witch of my age for a <em> reason</em>, Narcissa. You can fake it up to a point, but if the sister your family <em> disowned</em>, the Minister for Magic, and Professor McGonagall can trust you with me for this long, and I haven’t had doubts after <em> everything </em> you’ve seen and handled with grace, going bleeding <em> above and beyond</em>, that’s not- I can’t see that as purely self-serving. It may have started out like that? but you’re a Slytherin, and if you <em> didn’t </em> … care?” she paused, unsure if that was the right word- Narcissa hadn’t admitted it herself, but, “even a bit from the <em> start</em>, I know you could have found a way out of associating with me in the first place. Or at least done as little as necessary.”</p><p>Narcissa blew a puff of air from between her lips and started chuckling softly as if in disbelief and shock. “You are completely unbelievable, Hermione. I… I never wanted torture taking place in my own home, it- oh, I apologise for bringing it up-”</p><p>“It’s okay-”</p><p>“No, it’s not,” Narcissa cut her off, gripping the bridge of her nose with two fingers. “But it bears saying that nothing will ever make up for what I allowed to happen to you, what I allowed to happen to others in the manor. I believe… I realised that some time ago, and yet I still-”</p><p>“CISSY!” a voice called out, traveling towards the two of them. Hermione pulled her hands away from Narcissa and stepped back, giving themselves a wider berth of space between. Bellatrix came around the corner, staring at the spot they were standing in. “You’re outside of my allotted space, Cissy. And what are you doing standing around with... <em> Granger</em>?” Something about Bellatrix’s studying gaze unnerved her.</p><p>“Miss Granger,” Narcissa said, swiftly turning to fully face her sister, “was-”</p><p>“I was letting Mrs. Malfoy know that I’ve need to return to the castle soon. Coursework and all.”</p><p>Bellatrix raised her brows. “Well then, go! We don’t need to host a <em> sleepover </em> now, do we?” She laughed and started shooing her away while beckoning her younger sister to stay a while longer (“unless you <em> want </em>to return to that empty manor of yours so soon!”), but Narcissa reminded her, “I have to seal off the Floo, Bella. However, I will return.”</p><p>“Shortly, Cissy! Return <em> shortly</em>. Don’t want to keep your <em> darling </em>sister waiting now, hm?” </p><p>Once they were out of Bellatrix’s sight and in the first floor drawing room, Narcissa leading her towards the hearth and the small black terracotta pot that held the Floo powder, Hermione leaned against the side of a lavish sofa, shaking her head as Narcissa turned to her, gesturing to the hearth.</p><p>“Not until you tell me how your son is really doing.”</p><p>Narcissa Malfoy <em> huffed</em>, but primly folded her hands in front of herself. Meeting Hermione’s eyes, she finally said, “Mr. Potter is kind to him when they happen to meet. That is the best part of his work life currently. He finds his real purpose in the BSRA.”</p><p>“That…” Hermione uttered, “that leaves a lot to go terribly. What are people doing to him at his job?”</p><p>At this, Narcissa laughed- a cold, empty one. “Oh, more of what they <em> aren’t, </em>to some degree. But how am I to talk about this any more with <em> you </em> ? He was <em> horrible </em> towards you, Hermione! I’m well aware of every single derogatory thing he called you, everything he <em>did </em>to you in your school years together, and I implicitly <em> supported </em>my son. I never steered him away like I <em>should have</em>.”</p><p>“It’s…” Hermione gestured widely around them, “That’s water under the bridge, Narcissa- already passed, of no concern now! You were <em> there </em> when he apologised to me, and you're helping him change his ways <em>now</em>! And I- I plan to write him soon, meet him again, accept that position. What do I have to <em> do </em> to make you see that I... that I <em> want </em> to be a real friend to you, to <em> be </em>there for you and by extension, your son? You’ve done so much to show that you-”</p><p>“Keeping you at arms’ length is <em> easier </em>considering our current situation, Hermione,” Narcissa interrupted her, hands clenched into fists at her side. “Please leave the manor.”</p><p>Hermione glared at her, but knew she would get nowhere with the other witch right now.</p><p>Heaving a disgruntled sigh, she ground out, “Fine, <em>Mrs. Malfoy</em>, but this isn’t over.”</p><p>She walked up to the hearth, grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, and turned to look directly into Narcissa’s eyes as she called out her destination. The older witch’s icy and aloof features couldn’t hide the conflict in blue irises as green flames swallowed Hermione up and spat her back into her quarters at Hogwarts.</p><p>The last person she expected to find in said quarters was Luna Lovegood.</p><p>But there she was, blue-lined Ravenclaw robes and all, sitting at a bottom corner of her bed, a miniature night sky complete with constellations cast from her wand into the air above her. When Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, vanishing the soot from her robes, the younger witch smiled and said, “Hello, Hermione.”</p><p>“You are aware that this is Gryffindor Tower, right, Luna?”</p><p>Luna quirked an eyebrow, ending her spell casting. “I am aware of three things, actually: that this is Gryffindor Tower, that Ginny let me in, and that your head is chock full of wrackspurts.”</p><p>“Why would Ginny-”</p><p>Luna merely lifted a finger to her lips and made a soft shushing sound as she stood from the bed, coming closer to Hermione. For her own part, Hermione nearly backed into the hearth, heart dangerously leaping in her chest at Luna's clear lack of respect for personal space. Okay, this was… okay.</p><p>“These wrackspurts are related to Mrs. Malfoy, are they not?” Luna softly asked while her eyes narrowed and studied her intently. “I saw it on Harry’s birthday, all those wrackspurts crowding about the two of you, yours multiplying as she approached. Yet you are both unaware that you need to embrace each others’ to be free of them. They’re very intertwined, these particular wrackspurts.”</p><p>Hermione groaned and pulled a face. “Luna, you’re speaking to the wrong person here. Mrs. Malfoy doesn’t want me to- to ‘embrace’ hers, the… that utterly <em> impossible </em> witch.” Clenching her jaw, she went over to her bed and flopped down on the sheets back first, stretching her arms out as her legs from the knee down hung limply over the side. “Oh she’ll get in my business like it’s her <em> job</em>, and I happened to not give it much of a second thought for some time, but Merlin forbid I want to extend some reciprocity!”</p><p>Feeling the weight of the bed dip to her right, she craned her neck up, looking at Luna. The Ravenclaw woman extended a hand, resting it on top of her own. She became acutely aware of how her bushy hair was fanning out around her head and sat back up.</p><p>“She’s become quite self-reliant, you know, even more so now than before. I saw as much during Harry’s party,” Luna said quietly. “She is wary about letting others into her life, or at least that’s the impression her wrackspurts make.”</p><p>Hermione blinked at Luna, jaw opening and closing dumbly before she fell back against the bed again. “Merlin, she’s so painfully Slytherin. I can… understand, to a degree,” she thought of Ron and Harry, everything she hadn’t shared with the two boys. “But…” she trailed off, looking back up towards Luna. “I- Luna, are you absolutely certain that’s… what’s going on?” She wasn’t one to typically believe Luna about anything that involved creatures she couldn’t plainly see, but… she somehow wanted to this time. Her answer made sense, gave her something to potentially <em> work </em>with.</p><p>Luna shrugged. “The wrackspurts are hardly ever liars, especially when they’re so crowded around a person. You have a few less of them now, I’ve noticed.” The younger girl looked at her wristwatch and hummed. “It’s nearly curfew- I’m afraid I must return to Ravenclaw Tower. But, Hermione…”</p><p>She lifted her head up. “Hm?”</p><p>Luna openly smiled down at her, then before Hermione could react, the blonde had knelt over her and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead.</p><p>“Watch out for the nargles.”</p><p>Okay, so maybe she couldn’t form a proper sentence after that for a few minutes. That was fine. That was completely grand.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Leaving Hermione alone with Bella had proved a horrible decision. It hadn’t been <em> entirely </em> her idea, but her hand and opinion had gone into the decision-making, making it a test, a <em> trial </em> of sorts to see how the two other witches handled navigating the bond together without an intermediary- for lack of better phrasing- potentially “getting in the way.” Not that she had <em> tried </em>to actively get in their way, but- she sighed, directing the Aurors and Unspeakable up to Bellatrix’s quarters in Black Manor.</p><p>“What are they <em> doing </em> here, Cissy?” Bellatrix shot at her before the two Aurors cast <em> incarcerous </em> on the Dark witch, holding her taut to the bed and entirely constricted as the Unspeakable modified the DMLE’s initial wards, strengthening them with additional runes. The cloaked woman, her face intentionally modified with a charm into something easily forgettable, worked so quickly that Narcissa couldn’t for the life of her even <em> begin </em>to understand what she was doing, though she was acutely aware of how frightened Bella looked, her dark eyes bulging at the way she was restrained.</p><p>“You endangered my magic today with your antics,” Narcissa bitingly shot towards her sister, though what she really meant was, <em> you endangered </em> Hermione <em> today</em>. After handing her wand over to the Unspeakable, Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest, watching as the witch connected its magic to the enhanced wards. She could now apparate directly to where Bellatrix was if the wards were somehow tripped- a fail-safe of sorts. After the Aurors and Unspeakable sedated Bellatrix, Narcissa sat for several minutes, watching her eldest sister sleeping peacefully, nearly resembling the Bella she had once known- before everything around her had torn her down, and she had<em> let</em> herself sink with it. Bellatrix would be more than angry with her once she awoke again, she was more than aware, but she had done it to herself.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>anyone else play that hogwarts mystery mobile game lol. i don't play it as often as i did in 2018 and 2019 (saved my ass from boredom working retail back then), but my character is in sixth year and is a hufflepuff (i'm either a hufflepuff or ravenclaw myself) and yeah, i love the problematic character that is merula snyde. therefore, i find myself in need of new professors for this fic? i will indulge myself with professor snyde, thank u very much. (...and an oc from the same time period who can be head of gryffindor house. hogwarts needs some young blooded profs!!!)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hermione sends an owl to harry about draco, has detention with professor snyde, and meets with narcissa in her dormitory quarters.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks to Erin26_94 for beta'ing this chapter! also, of some note, I will likely switch to updates every other week now, so I can hopefully work on keeping up a backlog.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Harry, </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>-she tapped the speckled grey feather against her lips, considering her words,</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> How is Draco Malfoy faring at the Ministry? I’ve heard some things that have piqued my interest, but not with enough clarity. If you could let me know, that’d be great. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I’ve heard that you and Ron have caught a couple more Death Eaters on top of what other Aurors have done- at this rate, they’ll all be apprehended before a year’s gone by. Hope you both are well. Tell him hi for me! </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Love from, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Hermione </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>If Narcissa wasn’t going to give her a straight and honest answer, she knew Harry would- how the blonde witch hadn’t seen this coming when she mentioned her best friend’s name alongside Draco’s when speaking of how he was getting on at the Ministry, well. That was her fault. Even if a niggling voice at the back of her head said that this <em> wasn’t </em> the right way to go about things. She’d… deal with that later. Maybe. She just couldn’t let the matter go unanswered, that’s all! Clearly something more was going on, and she <em> needed </em>to find out what so she could… fix it? Oh Merlin, the niggling was back again- she shoved it aside and threw herself into focusing on her morning Potions lesson with Professor Slughorn.</p>
<p>By the afternoon, she still hadn’t heard a word from Narcissa about the previous evening- she had a mind to owl the woman herself to see if her Floo-related request still held after the way they had parted, but she pushed it off until she had a chance to respond to McGonagall’s letter. The Headmistress would surely let her know if Narcissa no longer wished full-body transport access to her Floo.</p>
<p>She had other things on her mind at that, like the detention she had tonight with Professor Snyde. Thankfully she didn’t have Defence on Fridays, considering it was a double lesson and only held on Thursdays, but it was enough to have the five foot essay from the professor. In previous years it would have been nearly a cinch for her to complete in the course of a couple of evenings. Perhaps it still could be, though she’d taken note of her concentration not <em> quite </em> being what it had been at times since term started- she’d even drifted off during one of Flitwick’s lectures! Still, though, her concentration was much better than Harry’s, and <em> especially </em>Ron’s (she’d considered that he might have ADHD- also taking in fact his hyperfocus for select topics- though could never get him to look into the Muggle diagnosis), but she was disappointed that she couldn’t practically zip through completing this essay as she could have before.</p>
<p>Control was something she’d always clung to in the past: control over her own body, and especially over her mind. Control over <em> time </em>itself during her third year at that. Now, though, thanks to bloody Bellatrix Black, she’d lost some control over herself in ways previously unimaginable.</p>
<p>
  <em> ‘The British Ministry of Magic-approved levels of Occlumency mastery are as follows: novice, intermediate, proficient, accomplished, exceptional, and master. The quality of techniques utilised, as well as time able to hold another wizard or witch’s mind from breaching one’s own-’ </em>
</p>
<p>As she stared at what she’d already written on the essay, sitting in front of the desk in her quarters, fingers wrapped around her quill- its tip still sitting in her inkpot- the thoughts crossing her mind slowly became discordant static.</p>
<p>Typically, she wouldn’t have even seen the owl coming, she’d be so wrapped up in her writing. Yet, distracted, she lifted her head to look out upon the Scottish Highlands, mind drifting to the first Hogsmeade weekend in early October, and she saw a little owl coming into focus before flying through the opening in her balcony window. It settled next to her on the desk, sticking one of its legs out. An official Hogwarts wax seal again.</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Miss Granger, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Kindly inform of your decision regarding Narcissa Malfoy on the blank portion of parchment beneath this letter. The Ministry requires a definitive answer by close of the workday this evening at six o’clock sharp. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Sincerely, </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Headmistress Minerva McGonagall </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Close of the-?! But she’d been <em> told </em> she had until the end of the<em> week</em>! Nothing about it being the end of the <em> work </em> week! She could tear her <em> hair </em> out at the Ministry’s overbearing bureaucracy on the matter, though she should have… yes, she should have <em> realised</em>, she supposed. It did make sense. Hermione also supposed that she needed to be level-headed about this, she <em> knew </em>that, and she wasn’t going to use her war heroine status to buy herself any more time. She just- she-</p>
<p>Making an entirely displeased sound, Hermione roughly pushed her chair back and knew she only had one thing to check on, and by Godric’s graces Narcissa Malfoy had <em> better </em> be in that manor or she would have to- to- she didn’t know exactly <em> what</em>, but she would do <em> something </em> to that witch to drive her thoroughly up the wall! Grumbling, she grabbed a pinch of Floo powder, knelt down before the fireplace in her quarters and stuck her head in as she called out “<em>Malfoy Manor!” </em>after tossing the powder down.</p>
<p>With her elbows tucked in at her sides, a flurry of fireplaces went by her vision until she saw the drawing room at Malfoy Manor. Candelabras scattered about the room and a grand chandelier somewhere above her line of vision lit the space up, though plenty of shadows still fell across the area as she took it all in, trying to remember which way the entry to the room was, when suddenly a rush of footsteps resounded to her left.</p>
<p>“Hermione!” the familiar timbre of Narcissa’s voice called out before the woman knelt in front of the fireplace, slightly panting and pushing stray blonde strands of hair out of her face. “Are you all right?”</p>
<p>She was rendered speechless for a moment, because Narcissa- she was without robes! Only a pair of almost form-fitting trousers, thin black socks, and a partially unbuttoned, high-collared blouse, and her hair had been put into half of a bun before she had apparently felt a tug on her magic and came… running? Hermione blinked several times, trying to gather her wits back about her- Merlin, the older witch had no <em> right </em>to look so damned… beautiful while disheveled! and she finally sputtered out, “Er, I- I wanted to check that you’d still like to have that full-body Floo access to my quarters at Hogwarts?”</p>
<p>Narcissa tilted her head and blinked at her rather slowly as if she were a particularly difficult arithmancy problem, her brow creasing. “Why ever would I change my mind, Hermione?”</p>
<p>“I-” she averted her eyes, glancing down at the hearth, only because it was <em> interesting</em>, damn it! “Well, after yesterday evening, I wasn’t… sure.” After more than several moments of silence, she let herself peek up at Narcissa again, finding some sort of… regret? in her eyes. Quirking a curious brow, she started to open her mouth when Narcissa waved a dismissive hand, the previous look in her eyes vanishing.</p>
<p>“Thank you for rejoining me- I would dare say that I am <em> far </em> more interesting than the hearth,” the older witch said finally, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Hermione noticed, though, that her hands were curled into fists, resting on her knees as she slightly spread her feet behind her. If she wasn’t mistaken, Narcissa’s hands were <em> trembling </em>just the slightest, but that may have been a trick of the fire’s sparks. “As for yesterday, I am sorry that I left you with such a dreadful impression. I only…” She heaved a sigh and finally let herself smile fully, albeit apprehensively.</p>
<p>“If it’s not too much to ask, may I brew you a few more vials and visit as soon as the Ministry allows myself full-body access to your quarters? I would much rather explain in-person…” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It’s… much more secure than speaking over the Floo Network.”</p>
<p>Shrugging, then realising that Narcissa <em> may </em>not be able to see that, said, “All right. I’ll owl the Headmistress and she’ll, I presume, let you know when you get access? Or the Ministry will?” She hesitated, then added, “I do have detention tonight at eight o’clock, just as a reminder. I believe it should only last about an hour.”</p>
<p>“Do you have any further lessons you need to get to this afternoon?” Narcissa asked. “I wouldn’t want you to run late.”</p>
<p>Hermione grinned. “Only Charms- it’s in about fifteen minutes.”</p>
<p>“Well then, have a good lesson, Hermione,” and there, okay, she exited the Floo connection, a warmth flooding her chest that was decidedly different than what she had ever felt around Ron. And unlike her prior experiences of disagreements with Ronald, she was more mature now, and Narcissa <em> wasn’t </em> him. They weren’t going to spend weeks not speaking to each other over something like this. They… they’d get it settled properly. She at <em> least </em> still wanted Floo access to her quarters in Gryffindor Tower, and so Hermione swiftly let the Headmistress know of her decision before heading to class.</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> I give express permission (expiring on the 26th of March, 1999) for Narcissa Malfoy to make use of my, Hermione Granger’s, Floo Network-connected fireplace in the Gryffindor Tower Head Girl quarters when the need arises. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>As she ate dinner that night, she was shocked to receive a return letter so quickly from Harry, but his typical, somewhat messy handwriting soon explained why.</p>
<p> </p>

<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Hermione, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> So glad to hear from you! But please write Ron as well, he was rather put out that he didn’t receive something from you- you've been a bit of a lifeline to him since… Fred, y'know? We’re back at the Ministry in London, debriefing on the latest captures before taking a few days off. We might pop by Hogwarts over the weekend. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> As for your question, I won’t ask who got your curiosity in a bind over </em> Draco Malfoy <em> of all blokes, but, er, right. As a son of a Death Eater, he’s not popular at all in the Ministry, especially at the DMLE. He’s been ostracised for the most part, though there’s plenty of whispers about him and threats that never come to light. I’ve done my best for him, but it will take time for people to trust someone with a Dark Mark who </em> hasn’t <em> gone to Azkaban for a stint already. Even if he did essentially save our lives at the manor. </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> It’s rubbish- I mean he was a right prat, but he was a kid like us, yeah? Brainwashed with bigotry, though. He’s more polite now, but I reckon it’ll take a bit to rid himself of that air of superiority he hauls around. He seems to take it all in stride, though, and I know better than to try and fix his life for him. I’d suggest you do the same, he’s a Slytherin after all. I tried what I could, and he got rather peeved about it. Blond prick can be right terrifying when he wants. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Hoping to see you (and my girlfriend!) soon! </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Love from your friend, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Harry </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Oh, that bloody fool of a Malfoy! A Slytherin’s pride could make a run on a Gryffindor’s, for Merlin’s sake. A part of her wanted to march right on up to the DMLE the first chance she got to knock some <em>sense </em>into Draco's exceptionally rude colleagues. If <em>Harry Potter </em>could get along with the Malfoy's son, then surely anyone should be able to put aside- <em>Merlin</em>! Thinking better of it, she took a swig from her goblet of pumpkin juice and looked up at the Head Table, finding Professor Snyde speaking out of the corner of her mouth to Professor Marlowe, eyes half-lidded - and was that her dramatically <em> rolling them </em>? Like some teenager? She returned to her plate, just repressing a snicker and finishing off her bread roll as Ginny let out some harsh squeal after reading her own letter from Harry, which he’d evidently finished after Hermione’s.</p>
<p>“They’re planning to visit on Sunday! Oh, Hermione, we’ve got to visit Bowtruckle’s Branch with them!” the red-headed woman exclaimed, and she… she couldn’t refuse that look on Ginny’s face. It wasn’t a restaurant and inn that was typically populated by Hogwarts’ students as most of it was warded for usage only by of-age wizardkind, but now that Ginny was seventeen they would have full reign of the place. That is, if they were allowed off-grounds during a non-Hogsmeade weekend- but, well, this was <em> Harry Potter</em>, surely they’d be allowed an afternoon? However much she didn’t want to use her or her friend’s war hero(ine) statuses… well, again, that look on Ginny’s face. It got to her.</p>
<p>“Tell him to make the reservations, Ginny,” she said, patting the younger witch’s forearm before finishing off her meal and goblet of pumpkin juice. The thought of a Sunday afternoon out with her friends kept her spirits up as she made her way to the DADA classroom for her detention.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Six full years at Hogwarts and she <em> still </em> had not grown fully accustomed to the ever-moving staircases. Once she finally reached the third floor N.E.W.T.-level DADA classroom, a pervasive chill left over from ghosts wandering the corridors had her casting a slight warming charm on herself. Hermione sheathed her wand to the holster on her left thigh as she opened the door to the classroom, finding it empty as expected. The professor’s office was just up a winding staircase at the front of the room, magically locked beyond a simple <em> alohomora</em>. She’d no need to see inside of it that much before, never having a detention in it with any of their previous Defence professors. Disregarding the mess with Umbridge during fifth year, she’d actually not had a proper detention since her <em> first year</em>. Oh, Merlin.</p>
<p>Knocking on the door, she heard a woman’s sharp voice say, “Enter.”</p>
<p>A wash of magic cascaded down the wooden door as she opened and then shut it behind her, finding Professor Snyde in a… quite warmly lit, dungeon-like office. She’d definitely transfigured and charmed the area to appear more, well, <em> Slytherin</em>. The young professor looked up from grading essays and motioned for Hermione to take one of the seats in front of her desk. Settling her school satchel by one of the chairs, she sat down, folding her hands on her lap. A full minute passed by with only the sound of Professor’s Snyde’s quill scratching against parchment.</p>
<p>“Miss Granger,” and oh <em> shit</em>, did she startle! The young professor’s eyes widened for a moment, urging her to calm down, “I’m not going to <em> murder </em>you, Miss Granger. Salazar’s scales, gather yourself.”</p>
<p>Hermione breathed a small sigh of relief she hadn’t known she’d been holding in. “I’m sorry, Professor. I’m still… a tad jumpy, at times.”</p>
<p>The older witch met her eyes and was scratching at the back of her messy head of hair, looking like she was sizing her up, but not in an unfriendly way. Violet eyes blinked before she took out an aged… journal? It was a bit smaller than her lesson journals and had a securing strap around it. She had retrieved it from within one of her desk drawers, along with a maroon quill, and then slid both over towards Hermione.</p>
<p>Professor Snyde tapped on the cover with a fingernail painted in black nail polish. “A certain Lady Malfoy sent quite the letter to my quarters last night, Miss Granger, and that is why I’m giving you these. While I do not typically entertain speaking of my years as a student here, keeping a journal almost exactly like this one after my seventh year aided in my… <em> recovery</em>. Lady Malfoy knows of this, considering we became acquainted rather somewhat by accident after she heard that a <em> Slytherin </em> and a <em> Snyde </em>at that had become involved with the Cursed Vaults tragedy. She was actually the one who gave me my own journal, which is almost an exact replica of this one.</p>
<p>“There are... plenty of reasons why I choose to not speak of my Hogwarts’ peers, much of which overlap with why you haven’t heard or read nary a detail about them. Some of my best mates- or those who I should have been mates with- <em> died</em>, Miss Granger, and it would be an insult to their memories to speak of them like they are part of some <em> attraction</em>. I am certain that you can understand that.”</p>
<p>
  <em> Fred. Lavender. Remus. </em>
</p>
<p>Hermione nodded as she took in a shuddering breath, resting a hand on the journal, slowly pulling it closer to her, her magic inexplicably warmed by the skin-to-dragon leather contact. She swallowed, looking back up at the Defence professor. “I- I’m-” she started.</p>
<p>“Save your sorries, Miss Granger, they won’t bring any of them back. Or magically- spare me the irony of using that word like a Muggle- bring Maggie back from wherever she’s hidden herself away this time, that damned Hufflepuff curse-breaker. We may have both survived, but...” Shit, it <em> hurt </em>to look up at the professor and see the way her violet eyes were betraying her, some mixture of anger and sorrow. The professor somehow managed to calm herself in a way that Hermione still hadn’t fully grasped for her own usage. She took a deep breath in, slower one out.</p>
<p>Professor Snyde looked away for another moment, then, her eyes piercing Hermione’s, “Don’t think this gets you out of detention, but I expect to see you using this journal with the quill provided to process your own trauma, Miss Granger-” she shushed her before she could make some retort about invasions of privacy, “Give me a <em> moment</em>, will you? You Gryffindors are <em> exasperating</em>. No, I won’t be able to <em> read </em> what you’ve written, but I’ve cast on the quill and the journal itself so I can know that you <em> are </em> writing in it every so often, and that your intentions are true. Not mere scribbles or the same word written endlessly to try and appease. Now, if you’d like to write a swear word over and over again on a couple of pages to <em> vent</em>, that’s one thing,” she smirked, “or if drawing helps, I added a way for you to slightly modify the casting for that, but-”</p>
<p>“I- If Mrs. Malfoy put you up to this, I can talk to her and get her to rescind-” she interrupted the other woman.</p>
<p>“She only suggested it, said I didn’t <em> have </em> to, but she did insist I go a bit light on your detention. Also wrote that you likened me to Professor Snape by the way I was acting? Merlin’s rubbish love life, you <em> will </em> put that out of your head <em> immediately</em>, and I will do my absolute utmost to <em> never </em>cause concern for comparison with him again. He was a war hero, but still… kind of a git-” at a sharp intake of breath, Professor Snyde chuckled and said with a wave of her hand, “Don’t give yourself a heart attack, Miss Granger, not everyone in Slytherin holds him upon a shining golden pedestal.”</p>
<p>She looked at the other witch appraisingly, still unable to let go of all of her suspicions. “But- but why are you telling me all of this if Mrs. Malfoy said you didn’t have to?”</p>
<p>Professor Snyde, for all it was worth, knew how to deliver the most <em> bone-chilling</em>, wicked grin. Or was it more of a sneer? It could be either for all Hermione knew. Draco Malfoy had never been able to pull <em> anything </em>like this off.</p>
<p>“And here I thought you were the brightest witch of your age, Miss Granger? Did you not feel the added privacy warding wash over this office as I released the locking spells that keep students out?” Hermione stilled, casting her eyes around as well as her magic, trying to pinpoint…</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“<em>Oh</em>?” And the professor chuckled! “What range of vocabulary you possess, Miss Granger. Lady Malfoy might be right in her assumption that I would find humour with you.” Hermione’s eyes blazed with... anger? confusion? pride? all three in succession, honestly, but she kept her mouth shut as the professor explained. “She has informed me of your arrangement with a certain Madam Black- Merlin knows how the Headmistress and Minister for Magic have managed to keep <em> that </em> entire business from leaking to the press, the Prophet would be absolutely <em> ravenous </em>over such a tale.</p>
<p>“To business, though. Lady Malfoy has so kindly asked, with monetary compensation of course, that I teach you proper Occlumency so that Madam Black cannot violate your mind as she reclaims more of her magic and, perhaps, the presence of mind to properly employ the fine art of Legilimency. To teach someone Occlumency requires a degree of familiarity for success, which I am willingly supplying tonight as a show of goodwill. The privacy wards prevent anyone from overhearing us, and also prevent the both of us from speaking of what we learn about the other outside of these walls, to a degree.”</p>
<p><em> Oh. </em>Hermione looked at the space right behind the professor’s right shoulder, considering it all. This was… this was a lot to take in, but Narcissa was clearly looking out for her again. She didn’t want Bellatrix invading her mind with Legilimency; the bond was bad enough as it already was. Softly exhaling, she returned to meet the professor’s eyes and nodded. “I appreciate the show of goodwill, Professor, and well, can we give it a trial run? A few lessons, see if they work out?”</p>
<p>Professor Snyde’s eyebrows shot up, hidden just behind her fringe, and she openly grinned. “Oh, they’ll <em> work</em>, Miss Granger. I may not be as talented an Occlumens as Lady Malfoy, but I was part of the official examination committee at the Ministry for the last few years. No, what we’ll trial run is whether we find ourselves compatible as mentor and student. If Tuesday evenings are compatible, we can begin on the fifteenth of this month and meet, say, every other week to start- each lesson will last for about an hour.”</p>
<p>“And what should I tell others when they ask why I’m coming down here every other Tuesday evening?” Hermione inquired, recalling that Professor Snape had given Harry his Occlumency lessons under the guise of taking Remedial Potions, which would <em> definitely </em> not work in her case. Hermione Granger needing <em> any </em>sort of remedial coursework would be laughable to anyone.</p>
<p>“Ah,” Professor Snyde started, and with a small flourish of her wand a <em> Mastery Defences Against Most Potente Dark Arts </em> textbook flew over to settle on top of the desk. “You, Miss Granger, will be auditing a new mastery-level text alongside myself. Ah-ah,” she motioned with a dismissive hand at the excitable glimmer that appeared in Hermione’s eyes, “You <em> may </em>take this and read it, but I’ve got enough on my plate as a first year professor. If you like, you may contact the author and see if they might entertain your reviews.”</p>
<p>They… Hermione glanced down at the by-line: <em> Ainsley Lackford</em>. Oh, yes, she’d heard of them- highly respected in the wizarding world, but if they’d been a Muggle, she feared their fate might have gone quite the opposite way. They were one of the, if not <em> the</em>, most accomplished Master of Defence Against the Dark Arts in the United Kingdom, and that was in spite of their dabbling in the Dark Arts themselves. Or perhaps, it was <em> because </em>of their dabbling in the Dark that gave them such a well-rounded, comprehensive view. Most miraculously, they had managed to turn down the Death Eaters that came knocking during both wars and lived to tell the tale.</p>
<p>She hadn’t considered a mastery in Defence before tonight, mainly due to the war she’d been thrust into, but… “You’re in contact with Lackford?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you’d be surprised at the mages I’ve contact with, Miss Granger,” was all the professor had to say on the matter, though the older witch’s sly smile didn’t completely leave her mind until she returned to her quarters an hour later after she- yes, she still had to serve <em> something </em>akin to a proper detention by helping to mark first year students’ initial foot long essays, as well as sort through items left behind from previous Defence professors.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All right, so, perhaps eating her dinner late, drinking an entire goblet of pumpkin juice, and then high-tailing it to her detention right after had <em> not </em> been the best idea. As she reached the Gryffindor common room, she rushed out a quick apology and excuse to Ginny and practically ran up the girls’ dormitory stairwell until she reached her quarters at the top. Nearly slamming the door shut and locking it with a quick upper jerk of her wand arm, she dashed to the loo, not bothering to shut the door to the full-sized bathroom as she finally relieved herself. She knew better than to question the tug on her magic as it had almost suddenly strained itself into a sharp <em> jerking </em> motion. It hadn’t bothered her much at first, only a slight tug towards the end of the detention, but it had grown exponentially when she neared the common room and <em> Merlin</em>, that jerk on her magic had <em> hurt</em>.</p>
<p>“Fucking hell, that Snyde,” she muttered to herself as she washed her hands. “Hour detention going fifteen plus minutes over…” She groaned, running her fingers down over her face in annoyance after drying them the Muggle way.</p>
<p>“Did Professor Snyde not allow a trip to the facilities during detention, darling?” a soft, almost teasing voice carried into the bathroom.</p>
<p>She could-! She nearly felt wild magic burst out of her- how <em> dare </em> Narcissa startle her like that! Jerking her upper body backwards to look out beyond the door frame, her fingers clasped around the frame as she looked, and yes, there she was- sitting primly at the edge of her bed, with bleeding <em> Crookshanks </em> in her lap! That damned half-Kneazle had hardly given her the time of day, deciding to mostly roam around the castle, but now he was- <em> shite! </em>Brown eyes blown wide, Hermione stammered something unintelligible until, finally, “W-what are you-?”</p>
<p>Narcissa gently removed Crookshanks from her lap and rummaged around the inside of her robes until she found what she was looking for, holding them up to show- <em> oh </em> , the vials she said she’d bring by earlier. She'd... forgotten about that, with the detention and all. “I came through about ten minutes ago once I received clearance. You've an... <em> emergency </em> need for these, correct?” And then she bloody <em> winked </em>at her, as if she hadn’t just-!</p>
<p>“Godric’s girdles,” Hermione groaned, still fixated on her idiotic blunder, “I am <em> so sorry </em>I didn’t notice you when I came in, I should have closed the d-”</p>
<p>“No reason to fret, Hermione,” she interjected, waving the issue away, “I didn’t dare to announce myself after I witnessed how you burst in.” Tilting her head a bit to the side, Narcissa continued, “Is your… potion not working correctly?”</p>
<p>Hermione flushed. “Er, no- <em> yes, </em> it is, I merely…” she cleared her throat awkwardly, “must have a bad habit of putting it off from before, thought it wasn't that bad and I've charmed my underthings to handle, er, small leaks?” Squeezing her eyes shut and placing a hand over them for a moment, softly exhaling, she continued, “It... was jerking on my magic most painfully by the end there, so it works even better than before, though I don’t think… going from the third floor to Gryffindor Tower should increase my need <em> that </em> much, unless it... kicked in nearly too late? I may write to your sister to look into it. But,” she looked back at the blonde in spite of the flare of self-consciousness, “enough of-”</p>
<p>Narcissa had swiftly crossed the distance between them and settled firm hands on her shoulders as she stood in the bathroom doorway. “<em>No, </em> not enough of that, Hermione! You <em> must </em> excuse yourself no matter the circumstance when the potion makes to tug on your magic- perhaps you may wait a few tugs if absolutely necessary, but- do you <em> want </em>to further damage yourself? You need to-” The blonde looked directly into her eyes and, “Oh, I didn’t mean-” Hermione pushed Narcissa aside, striding out onto the balcony.</p>
<p>She hadn’t it in her to lock and ward the balcony doors, and soon sensed the other woman standing a couple of meters behind her as the cool September wind gently blew through her curls. Softly, she started speaking to the scenery in front of her, unable to face the blonde for the moment. “I’m not talking to you about this subject anymore if- if you won’t allow yourself to be more open with me- even a <em> little, </em> Narcissa, to simply <em> try</em>. I...”</p>
<p>She grimaced as she realised something, her shoulders hunching up as she admitted, “By the way, Harry told me about what’s happening at the Ministry with your son. I…” Oh god, now with Narcissa here <em>with </em>her, that niggling voice had definitely made itself known again. It'd been right. “I know I overstepped there by going to him, just like I did with the house-elves here, and I’m sorry- I won’t again, I know that broke trust.”</p>
<p>“You did,” Narcissa said, some spot of frustration in her tone, “but... thank you for the apology. If you do it again, though-”</p>
<p>“I won’t, I promise,” she assured. “B-but I don’t want this, <em> whatever </em> this is, to all be about me. I… I won’t <em> force </em> you because that isn’t what friendship is about at <em> all, </em> but I don’t want this,” she finally turned around, motioning between the two of them, “to be so completely one-sided. I- We can go back to how it was in the beginning if you don’t want to try. But I want you to know that… there’s no need to be wary of my motivations. I just- you're not my Healer, my professor, or my <em> mother</em>. You're...” <em> what? </em>Friends, certainly, though it was currently rather unbalanced, but...</p>
<p>Looking at Narcissa’s unreadable expression, she thought about how much she <em> didn’t </em> want her to leave, <em> didn’t </em>want them to go back to how it was at the beginning. She wanted Narcissa to feel like she could, what? trust her more, she wanted-</p>
<p>Hermione swallowed thickly and turned around again, resting her arms on the banister, watching the clouds drift over the half-moon above them. There was silence, but that also meant the older witch hadn’t left. Hermione knew she would have sensed it even if Narcissa had grown immensely immature in the span of a few moments and cast a silencing charm on her shoes. She almost wanted to laugh at the sheer idea of it.</p>
<p>Silence turned into slow <em> click</em>s as the other woman settled next to her at the edge of the balcony, resting her arms in the same manner. “First of all, you... have my forgiveness for going to Mr. Potter about my son. You clearly understand what you did was wrong, and while I presume I should have expected such brashness from a Gryffindor, I expected better from you. I <em> expect </em>better in the future, Hermione.”</p>
<p>Hermione nodded tersely, staying quiet. After a moment, Narcissa continued, “And I… I apologise as well. This…” she motioned between them, “association between the two of us, it’s been work-”</p>
<p>She was unable to repress a snort. “You think? I still hardly know how to read you at times, Narcissa. It's bad enough that Bellatrix is like that, but you're...” she trailed off.</p>
<p>“That… has entirely been my fault. However much the Slytherin in me wants to preen at what she sees as something of a compliment.” Narcissa sighed, and out of the corner of her left eye, Hermione almost thought she saw the other woman’s fingers twitch, as if she wanted to touch her, but didn’t. Wouldn’t let herself. “You do recall that I said I cannot show much of any positive regard towards you in front of Bellatrix?”</p>
<p>She turned to face the older witch and nodded. “But that was… a couple of months ago or more, wasn’t it? And she calls me Granger now, so... that’s a step?”</p>
<p>“She heard you call me by my <em> given </em>name, Hermione.”</p>
<p>Face paling, Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. That was when the Inferi had come to accost and harm them! “But I had <em> reason </em> to then," she exclaimed, "It was a thoroughly frightening situation! And I thought she was <em> out </em>of it, curled up on herself like that and completely unresponsive until afterward.”</p>
<p>“I am afraid that her hearing was working fine.” Narcissa stepped back from the railing, only to turn and lean her back against it. Hermione turned to her side, hip resting against the banister. Regarding the older witch carefully, the way her chest slightly rose and fell as she breathed, her eyes gazing upwards to the stars that were visible between cloud cover, she was struck again by how… how bloody <em> beautiful </em>Narcissa was, and the way her silky blonde hair fell between her shoulder blades… god. Narcissa shut her eyes and said in a soft, almost apprehensive tone, “She’s well on her way to suspecting that I- that-”</p>
<p>Hermione waited patiently, though her fingers twitched in their desire to touch the other witch, to physically draw words out of her, to reach out and stroke that gorgeous blonde hair. To slide her knuckles over the woman’s cheekbone, to...</p>
<p>With a puff of shaky breath leaving between her lips, Narcissa finally continued, her voice soft, “That I do <em> care </em> for you, truly, as I have come to realise, but could not yet allow myself to completely believe let alone speak aloud. Honestly, though, Bellatrix <em> already </em>seems to suspect if not fully believe.”</p>
<p>She shouldn’t laugh, should she? She wasn’t laughing <em> at </em> Narcissa, honestly! Only that it proved that the older witch actually, without a doubt, one hundred percent <em> cared</em>, and finally saw fit to one hundred percent <em> admit </em> to- now this was progress, she’d wager. And sure, Hermione wasn’t a Slytherin, but she’d be a right <em> fool </em>if she didn’t use that information, to, well-</p>
<p>“Then let me care for <em> you</em>, too, Narcissa,” and she let herself reach out and grab hold of one of the blonde’s hands, squeezing it with purpose. “And by extension, your <em> son</em>. He doesn’t need to punish himself so, by not accepting <em> any </em> help. Self-reliance is a good trait in itself, in <em> moderation</em>. But the way he’s going about it, it’s like <em> actual </em>punishment, which isn’t healthy, even for you Slytherins.” She paused, eyes widening, realising something she didn’t want to admit to yet, then after a few more moments gathered herself as Narcissa raised an eyebrow in her direction, and quipped, “Well, unless it’s in a different form, in the bedroom, and you’re maybe into withhol-”</p>
<p>“<em>Hermione Granger</em>, I should wash your mouth out for such innuendo!” But it was clear as day that Narcissa didn’t mean it by the shine in her eyes and the sudden boisterous laugh that had her clutching at her sides as if in stitches. When Narcissa’s laughter had died down and she looked again at her, Hermione could only grin, hoping that she’d successfully distracted the other witch. Though now she was thinking of something else entirely that had her just as flustered, albeit in a different manner of speaking.</p>
<p>Remarking that it was getting a bit chilly out, she headed back into her quarters, Narcissa following behind her. She sat on her bed, back against the headboard with pillows propped up for support and patted the other side (<em>“it’s more comfortable than the chairs or </em> standing<em>, Narcissa” </em>). After a small period of deliberation Narcissa sat on the bed beside her, though still put space between them.</p>
<p>She was just about to speak again when Narcissa beat her to it. “Do not for one second think that I did not notice the way you deflected into that joke, Hermione.” Slowly, she turned to look into pale blue eyes tinged with concern. She swallowed around the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat and with a hand over her mouth, swiped the top of her lip with her thumb, averting her eyes after a few moments. She couldn’t- she-</p>
<p>“You... recognised that you could identify with what you were saying about my son, didn’t you?” Hermione pulled her legs up underneath her and inclined her head slightly, but said nothing. She heard Narcissa sigh and nearly flinched away as a hand came to rest upon her shoulder. The older witch squeezed gently, then released her hold.</p>
<p>“I won’t force you to talk about it with me if you… don’t feel comfortable to, right now,” Narcissa reassured her. “But I hope we can discuss it at another point, after you’ve time to reflect. If what I’ve heard about Hermione Granger is correct, though, you surely have some ideas about what my son might realistically do to help himself in a more constructive way. Do feel free to enlighten me. I've been doing my best to stay out of his business, but perhaps with the right approach, he will heed his mother.”</p>
<p>Good, finally something she could handle. She relaxed her posture slightly and said, “Look, I’ll just get right into where we left off at the manor. Your son <em> was </em> a right prat to us- to <em> me </em> - during previous years, but even I can tell he’s making an effort to change, and it <em> feels </em>sincere, at least. He’s already serving reparations, right? I mean, the BSRA, for example...”</p>
<p>She heard Narcissa sigh tiredly beside her, fiddling with her fingers in her lap. “He doesn’t feel that they are enough to make up for… what he did, during the war.” </p>
<p>“Well, if that’s how he feels, he should go to the Ministry Reparations Committee and submit a formal request for more,” she suggested. “Not sit by and allow others to trample him, silently or not- that’s not, well, it doesn’t seem like <em> him</em>. He could…” an idea sprung to mind, “ingratiate himself to some of the wives of Death Eaters now in Azkaban? And widows of Death Eaters?”</p>
<p>Narcissa froze beside her. “...Wives of Death Eaters? Am I- am I included in that?”</p>
<p>“<em>Some </em>of the wives, not you. If you were included, I’d have seen the Minister about that mistake,” she assured. “The Ministry keeps tabs on them, I’ve heard, but they can’t do it forever, they’ve ‘more important work’ to do, at least according to the higher-ups, from what Harry’s told me. And Draco, well…”</p>
<p>The other witch’s eyes lit up, then, “He has always had a knack for persuasion.”</p>
<p>“At least when it comes to people who aren’t Harry Potter or Gryffindors,” she replied with a smirk, recalling Harry’s tale of first meeting Draco Malfoy at Madam Malkin’s all those years ago and how he’d left the shop with an utterly terrible taste in his mouth and emotion in his heart for the Malfoys’ son. Narcissa spared a soft chuckle at that old memory, and Hermione continued, “But with <em> these </em> women? I’m sure if he plays his cards right that he could have them under his spell, to use a Muggle phrase- have them fascinated, influenced by him. He could find out whether the Ministry needs to keep an eye on them, and prove himself further as someone keen on reforming.”</p>
<p>Without meaning to, she let out a yawn in the short pause after finishing her sentence and found slender fingers working their way through one side of her hair, the one closest to Narcissa. She wanted to lean into the other witch. She wanted a lot that she shouldn’t, because, well, it wasn’t in the cards. It never would be. Knowing Narcissa cared for her didn’t mean anything more, it simply didn’t. It meant enough as it was. She loved Ron and Harry, she did, but they were <em>boys</em>, and never so demonstrative in their care- whatever they had provided, which had always been clumsy but... well-meaning, she supposed. Ron was trying, she told herself.</p>
<p>“You should get your sleep, Hermione,” Narcissa said gently, as she got off the bed. The extra weight removed from her mattress made her feel something twist in her stomach, a certain emptiness. “I will find a way to bring the subject up with my son. Thank you for… for this, I appreciate it more than you can ever know.”</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. “Tell him that I’m still thinking about the BSRA, too, please? I’m working on... forgiving him, as well. And I’ll make sure to stop calling you Narcissa when we’re around Bellatrix. Thank <em> you </em>for embracing a bit of candor with me tonight. How does it feel?” She grinned at the older witch, nearly feeling her magic vibrate underneath her skin as blue eyes contemplated her.</p>
<p>“It feels like someone <em> is </em>quite the nosy little witch-”</p>
<p>“Hey, I’ll have you know I’m nearly the same height as you!”</p>
<p>Narcissa laughed, and Hermione almost pouted, but then the woman would have <em> another, </em> entirely <em> different </em> reason to call her little, and she was not going to hand it over so easily. “Please do not interrupt me, darling. What I was meaning to say is that though you are nosy, you <em> mean well</em>, and have... shown me that perhaps friendships are more than I perceived before. That you aren’t looking to… obtain information about myself or my family that you might later use against us.”</p>
<p>Hermione gaped. “Is- is that the sort of <em> friends </em>you were associating with before? Blackmailers?”</p>
<p>“Well… yes, I’m afraid so, for the most part. Such is the casualty of being a pure-blood Slytherin- in times of conflicts, especially. Even if I had wished for inter-house friendships that may have meant more- not based only upon how they could <em>benefit</em> me- Slytherins have not had much luck in maintaining them for long. Those who did in my time here were, to a degree, ostracised, and a Slytherin ostracised by their own Housemates…” Narcissa chewed on her lower lip for a moment. “And Bellatrix, hypocrite that she was and is, might have sent my head back to our parents on a spike if I so dared, if she found out during my Hogwarts years, before my marriage to Lucius, before...”</p>
<p>Hermione finally remembered she had a jaw that was gaping open and snapped it back to its proper place. “That’s- that’s horrible, Narcissa!”</p>
<p>“We take care of our own because they are all we simply have- barring Andy, and you are well aware of where that got her for decades.”</p>
<p>“It’s still complete bollocks.”</p>
<p>“I know, my dear, I know,” and before the witch left, she came around to Hermione’s side of the bed and pressed a feather-light kiss to the top of her head. Unable to do anything but blush at the action, she merely watched as Narcissa left for Malfoy Manor, the Floo sealing itself shut afterward. She glanced at her nightstand, that familiar warmth bursting within her as she noted the vials stacked in a small container. <em>Should an emergency need arise,</em> indeed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Narcissa hardly slept that night for three-fold reasoning. One: she wondered if she <em> should </em> have pushed Hermione into speaking about how she had been referring to herself as much as she had Draco, two: she had felt <em> something </em> prickling at her mind upon mention of other Death Eaters’ wives, which frustrated her as much as made her want to push the entire matter away from her mind, and three: she had <em>finally</em> found something about suppressing Black blood bonds before halting her research for the day. If she were a Gryffindor, she might have screamed her delight and- and pranced around, or whatever some of those bloody lions might do. Though she couldn’t quite picture Hermione doing that- or rather, she… she didn’t <em> need </em>to picture that, for what it did to her.</p>
<p>As for the first matter, she was a Slytherin who valued self-preservation, so she dropped her concerns after allowing herself enough time to self-reflect on it to sate her mind. She decided that she would leave the metaphorical Quaffle in Hermione’s hands, to toss to her whenever she felt more comfortable, because Merlin did that young woman deserve to feel comfortable after everything she’d gone through. But she was <em> also </em> aware that in this metaphorical Quidditch game, much like in real ones, Chasers were not meant to hold onto the Quaffle by themselves the entire time. There were three- well, two- Chasers on the team in this case, and Narcissa found herself desperately wanting to share the burden of the Quaffle with the other witch. She would bide her time, though, and only bring it up if Hermione didn’t within a reasonable amount of time. After all, the Quidditch game couldn’t go on <em> forever</em>. Or, well, <em> technically </em> it could, though she wondered why nothing had been done about that after the entire “three-month-long-game” fiasco. Either way, she wasn’t going to let <em> this </em>metaphorical one go on anywhere near that length of time.</p>
<p>The second… if she thought about too much, she would give herself a migraine, so she smartly filed it away for later perusal. Thinking about those women in general wasn’t good for her- she needed to focus on further rekindling her relationship with Andromeda, and honestly, she knew she should seek out women who <em> weren’t </em> associated with the Death Eaters. Eventually. When it seemed possible that any of them might respond to her with any sort of favour. The one she would have written immediately- Alice- was… she would never be able to speak to her in the same way ever again. Merlin, she couldn’t think about <em> her</em>, either. She could at least start with some other pure-blooded women, who could understand even slightly… perhaps Andy knew of a few, surely.</p>
<p>She felt more than fortunate to have finally found a helpful section on creating a safe suppressant for Black blood bonds. There <em> was </em> the caveat that it wasn’t <em> guaranteed </em>to work for every single situation- much like other potions-  but… she had the transfigured dummies to test. She merely needed to gather physical manifestations of the bond, which were typically found…</p>
<p>“Hm.” Narcissa had written down her findings and pocketed them, hoping that soon enough the two bonded witches would exhibit what she needed to complete the suppressant. She couldn’t force it, but Merlin did she wish she could. If only to release Hermione from having to continually see the witch who had tortured her, even… even though that witch was her sister.</p>
<p>Part of her wondered if Hermione would even <em> want </em> to see her after she was free of the bond, but that wasn’t… wasn’t her decision to make. Even if an ever-growing part of her absolutely desired it, she would never… She would give that young witch almost whatever she wanted, even if it was to never see another member of the Black family again for the rest of her life after the cursed bond was lifted. She dearly hoped, though, for the opposite, however selfish that was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>did I make a schedule for Hermione for this fic? <a href="https://imgur.com/a/0RPvSv0">yep.</a> (based off a <a href="https://www.reddit.com/r/HPfanfiction/comments/b93g9f/harry_potter_and_the_hogwarts_class_schedules_a/">reddit thread</a> I found.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hermione recalls the visit to bowtruckle's, owls a couple of people, misses a meeting with bellatrix for the first time, talks with narcissa about the journal as well as lucius, and meets with draco alone.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this has nothing to do w/the fic bUT Y'ALL I'M SO HAPPY ABOUT MY COUNTRY VOTING TO GET RID OF THAT VILE ORANGE MAN. and as a person who stutters, it means so much to see someone like me reach the highest office in the country. :')</p><p>anyway! back to the fic.</p><p>content warning for, well- not entirely sure how to describe it, but there is <i>almost</i> a het sex scene. in the very first draft it was a whole-ass het sex scene, but I changed it as this approach made much more sense to me, and it spares everyone from, well, yes. *clears throat* this is a Realization Chapter, essentially. also, content warning for a little section of vomiting later on- I'm emetophobic myself so it's light, but still there.</p><p>thanks to Erin26_94 for beta reading, <i>and</i> thanks to all you people reading, commenting, kudos'ing, etc! appreciate y'all so much. 💛</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Good <em> gods </em>above, she was never expecting to entertain a letter from bloody Bellatrix Black arriving during breakfast! But here she was, in the middle of eating a rather scrumptious meal of beans on toast with the addition of chopped parsley on top. It was Monday morning, her thoughts still with the previous day’s events.</p><p><em> It’d been too long since she’d last seen Ron properly- or Harry for that matter, because when he </em> did <em> come home before term started, it was typically after she’d already gone to bed. She always left a plate of food out under a stasis charm that held until the next morning, and sometimes he’d leave a thank you note in the night for her to read once she woke up and made her way down to the kitchen. </em></p><p><em> The hug with Harry came easy, and the hug and </em> kiss <em> with Ron should have been even easier, and though she found herself relenting into his kiss and chastely returning it… she wondered if the saying was entirely false, that distance made the heart fonder. She loved Ron, she did, teasing up his hair as they pulled away from the close contact. Such a pretty ginger colour. She kept telling herself that, but she should think about more than his hair- after all, he shared it with his entire family, even if the exact shade of red wasn’t the same between all Weasleys. </em></p><p>
  <em> Bowtruckle’s at least lived up to every rumour surrounding it. Inside it appeared as a grandiose and subdivided greenhouse, covered from floor to ceiling in various ivies, bushes, and some sweet-smelling moss that she’d not had the chance to ask about during their meal because, all too soon they were done, and- </em>
</p><p><em> Well, one bit about Bowtruckle’s was that it lived up to its nickname as a </em> love garden<em>. At the back of the restaurant and pub were a few hallways, branching off into single rooms that couples or moresomes could pay for, even rent out for a night. Harry and Ron surprised both she and Ginny with two rooms after their meals, one for each couple, and as Harry and Ginny moved as one conjoined-at-the-lips-being into one of the first rooms, she forced herself to hold onto Ron’s hand as they moved much, much further down the hall, ducking into another. </em></p><p><em> The room itself was absolutely gorgeous. Enchanted English ivy ran in glittering helix tendrils from domed ceiling to floor, and a large bed took up the majority of the glassed-in room. They could see out, but no one could see in- </em> “Unless You’re Into That, Of Course!” <em> their charmed key tag had read. She really wanted to want this… didn’t she? Their first few times had been clumsy, and though she told herself she enjoyed it, she- she </em> wanted <em> to want him, she told herself. She was telling herself </em> a lot <em> of things about Ronald these days. He was a good man, he </em> was<em>, and she forced a smile at him as he handed her a contraceptive vial to down. </em></p><p><em> His feather-light kisses </em> should <em> have felt immensely pleasurable, his hand cupping her breast after her bra had been removed </em> should <em> have made her moan as he pressed his lips against hers, and the press of his hard prick against her hip should have thoroughly turned her on… right? Merlin, she’d wished she’d taken up Ginny’s offer of firewhisky, but at least Ron noted that she wasn’t wet enough for him yet and went for her bundle of nerves, but as he touched her there, she couldn’t help the knee-jerk reaction from coming over her- she pushed him away, curling in on herself as she backed against a wall, attempting to cover herself as if he’d never seen her naked before. </em></p><p><em> “‘Mione?” Ron asked, his voice hoarse- apprehension, confusion, and some slight spot of frustration in his gaze. He started to walk towards her, but she just shook her head, trying to come up with some excuse for not wanting to continue. He stopped a couple of meters or so away from her and dropped his tentatively outstretched arms, making two fists at his sides as he went from looking at her to some undetermined place in the corner, but she still saw the anger rising in his eyes, his </em> face <em> as it was turning nearly as red as his hair. </em></p><p><em> Seeing his Adam’s apple bob as he turned to her again, he questioned, “Do you- d’you not want me? What’s </em> wrong<em>, Hermione?” a long pause, then, “Am I… am I not </em> good <em> enough for the ‘brightest witch of her age’?” He chewed on his lower lip, glaring at her, and she- gods, this was not a conversation she wanted to have in the </em> nude<em>. And hadn’t they already been through this song-and-dance before? She shook her head again and wandlessly summoned her clothing back to her, putting it all back on. He watched, following her with his eyes, and she noticed that his prick was still half-hard. </em> Fuck<em>. She should have stopped this before it even started, but she- she didn’t know how to </em> explain, <em>couldn't</em><em>. Her words had left her entirely. </em></p><p>
  <em> “We did this for you and Ginny, you know,” Ron finally muttered as he zipped up his trousers. “I’m sure she and Harry are having a good time of it now, however much I don’t want to think about my sister and him still.” </em>
</p><p><em> Hermione sat down on the floor, finally making consistent eye contact with him again. She gulped and softly said, “You </em> are <em> good enough, Ron, don’t even think for one moment that- that- I just-” she wet her lips and finished rather lamely, “I’m… I’m not in the mood right now, that’s all.” A half-truth. But she had forgotten something important, which Ron reminded her of. </em></p><p><em>“These rooms are only supposed to </em>increase <em>any feelings you have towards your partner, Hermione! Increased… what’d it say... ‘desire and libido pulled from the love you have towards each other.’ But- but you’re saying you’re not </em>in the mood <em>here</em> <em>of all places?! How the-” he laughed hollowly, “how the </em>fuck <em>am I supposed to believe you love me at </em>all <em>now, Hermione?”</em></p><p><em> “Maybe- maybe something’s a bit off about the magic in here?” she offered quietly, standing to her feet again. “I… mean, it makes sense, doesn’t it- you and me, after everything? I do </em> love <em> you, I do, but I can’t </em> force <em> myself to have sex with you, when- when it would </em> hurt <em> me like this. And I can’t- I-” she choked on her own words. </em> Why <em> couldn’t she do this, </em> want <em> this now? He was a good man, he deserved… </em></p><p><em> Ron grumbled some more, then went over to a wall and clenched his hands into fists again- his magic </em> vibrated <em> outwards, and hers could feel the frustration, the repressed rage. She curled her lips inward and furrowed her brow, wiping at her eyes, surprised to find wetness greeting her skin. When he turned back to her, he flatly said, “Let’s… let’s not mention this to Harry and Ginny. They shouldn’t ask, anyway. We- we’ll deal with it. Later. You’ve...” he looked at her, and she wasn’t sure what emotion warring across his features won out in the end. </em></p><p>
  <em> Before she made to follow him out of the room, the sunlight from outside glinted through the window, shining against the back of his red hair, and for an instant she imagined she saw a golden blonde instead. And she felt every pre-conceived notion of her world crumble around her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She… she needed to break up with Ronald Weasley. </em>
</p><p>Now with this addition from Black, Hermione figured this was going to be a taste of what would come on Thursday evening- her emotions had gone wild for every reason under the sun- surely Bellatrix had experienced flashes and would go beyond the pale in taking the mickey out of her. She could imagine it now: <em> Such a substandard starting performance by the Weasel that you broke off before it could even get anywhere </em> proper<em>, pet. Are you quite sure it’s cock you’re wanting to savour? </em>But no, the letter from Bellatrix, well.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Granger, </em>
  </p>
  <p><em>Find yourself a better sex partner. That was horrendous, likely even by Weasel standards, considering you </em>quite clearly <em>did not finish with him. I experienced the most </em>ludicrous<em> urge to feel something akin to </em>sympathy<em>, perhaps even </em>empathy<em>,</em> <em>for you, which was one of the most unpleasant emotions I’ve ever felt, and being a former Death Eater? I’ve run the gamut, pet. Were you even </em>wet<em> for him?</em></p>
  <p><em> And do not respond to this by telling me that I should have taken my bloody vial. I did. It wasn’t strong enough to block all of your intense emotions out, and I’ve half a mind to go ahead and tell my sister all the details of </em> why <em> it didn't work. </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> I may regardless, who knows? I’m bloody Bellatrix Black. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Toodles, pet. </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>She’d… taken a vial, and it… it <em> hadn’t </em> helped like before? Oh Merlin and Morgana. She wasn’t sure which version of <em> thoroughly fucked with </em> she preferred: Ron’s or Bellatrix’s. Honestly she didn’t want to deal with <em> either. </em> She did know that she didn’t want to hear anything about sex <em> or </em>arousal from Bellatrix fucking Black!</p><p>Hermione burned the letter with the tip of her wand and found that she’d lost much of her appetite. Thankfully, she’d already nearly finished her breakfast, and was also grateful that Ginny had managed to acquire permission from the Headmistress to stay with Harry at Bowtruckle’s overnight and <em> wasn’t </em> in the Great Hall to pester her about a letter that needed burning. Her tendency to rise earlier than the rest of those in Gryffindor also did her well today, though she wondered idly where Luna was as she drank a bit more from her goblet, but didn’t finish it off because Andy told her she still needed a bit more time to fine-tune her potion, and she <em>wasn’t</em> ready to answer any questions about too many emergency trips to the loo from her friends. She was glad that her lessons schedule was free for the most part, even if much of that time was spent revising.</p><p>It was with Black’s letter still in mind that she entered the Herbology greenhouses for her first lesson of the day, making her way into greenhouse number seven. Professor Sprout- gods she loved how the woman literally exemplified the best of Hufflepuff House- was waiting patiently for the N.E.W.T.-level students to arrive as she attended to a rather tame plant, at least in appearance. The woman, donned in her typical tanned work robes, was kindly but stubborn, pushing them to realise the value of hard work even if they weren’t Hufflepuffs with a natural inclination for it. Hermione settled in at her table alongside Neville, and they were joined by Justin Finch-Fletchley, Eloise Midgen, and Hannah Abbott - who, by missing her original sixth year, had to repeat it during Riddle’s control of Hogwarts, and was finally taking her seventh year.</p><p>Eloise, who’d unfortunately been known for her terrible case of acne, still had a few pimples, but Hermione wondered… if perhaps the stress of the war had made everything worse for the witch. She’d quite grown into herself now, and she could tell that the Hufflepuff had taken on the Head Girl role excellently. Hannah had already been making small advances towards Neville, but the man was clueless even more so with the Hufflepuff woman than he was with Luna who he was <em> finally </em>catching onto, and Justin, well, he was slowly but surely coming back into himself, though with shared looks they’d both silently understood the separate hells they’d each gone through as Muggle-borns during the war. If she’d overheard correctly the past week, he’d confirmed his place as one of the Muggle-borns on the BSRA to Hannah and Eloise, along with Ernie Macmillan as one of the pure-bloods alongside Draco Malfoy, but had had the grace to not bother her about it. Yet, at least. And deep down, she could never consider Justin a bother- she honestly wished she’d gotten to know him more during their previous school years. Perhaps now she’d finally get that chance once she joined the BSRA.</p><p>The door banged open about seven minutes into the lesson, revealing a panting Ginny Weasley, late from staying with Harry overnight. Hermione hid a smirk behind the palm of her hand, head facing downward as the red-head loudly apologised and accepted a warning and loss of five House points from Professor Sprout. She only looked back up after she heard the bang of the textbook against their table and felt Ginny’s presence slide into the empty seat next to her. Neville grumbled something to her about the importance of Herbology, to which she glanced over and saw Ginny stick her tongue out at him.</p><p>Harry and Ron weren’t here, and that still panged at her heart (though she <em> was </em>glad that she didn’t have to face him so soon after the debacle of yesterday afternoon), but Ginny, Neville, and Luna? They nearly more than made up for it. At least they made things seem so much more normal, despite her current circumstances.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>That evening she knew it was well past due time to get in contact with a couple of people. The Headmistress had made an announcement before dinner appeared in the Great Hall that all eighth years and select seventh years could leave Hogwarts and Hogsmeade grounds each weekend, provided that they sign out appropriately. With this newfound freedom, she composed two letters: one to Andromeda Tonks-</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Andy, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> You may have heard that eighth year students like myself are allowed off grounds each weekend? If not, there’s that settled nicely before, well. I have a question. Or offer. Both, honestly. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> During the summer holidays, I mentioned that I could be there to look after Teddy if you and your daughter ever want help, and that offer still stands. I would like to at least visit him, if that would be amenable? I’ve had no more experience with babies since him, but it felt… nice? Lovely, really. I’m in no way ready to become a mother yet, but I’d love a chance to be an honorary Auntie to him if that’s something you and your daughter would like as well. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> Please let me know! </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Fondly, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Hermione </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>and another letter to one Draco Malfoy-</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Draco, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> My apologies that it has taken me so long to get back to you on the matter of joining the BSRA. I do not expect the position to still be open, but I would still like to extend an invitation to The Padlocked Pensieve this coming Saturday afternoon at one o’clock if you would care to talk about it, as well as a few other pressing matters. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Awaiting your return owl, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Hermione Granger</em></p>
  <p><em>P. S. You’re free to respond to this yourself- I’ve added you to my list of allowed senders to my quarters at Hogwarts. Abuse it </em>once <em>and you're off that list, though.</em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>It still felt bloody weird addressing Malfoy by his first name, but they were adults now, he was working at the Ministry, and it at least distanced himself from his lousy father. Even if he still wouldn’t call her by her first name. It’d come with time, and she wouldn’t rush to pester him about it. He <em> did, </em>however, rush a reply letter to her. She’d barely sat down to enjoy a plate of chocolate biscuits and milk that night, courtesy of Winky the house-elf, who she’d visited on her second evening in the castle, finding her doing somewhat better these days. Hermione, for her part, knew better now than to try and get the creature to desire freedom- even if the notion still sometimes prodded at her better sensibilities, and Winky- well, she had finally come around to her.</p><p>
  <em> “Thank you, Winky,” she’d said to the house-elf, watching as the creature sat the dish and glass on her nightstand. Winky hiccoughed, but beamed up at her after. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Winky is most glad to be serving Miss Granger in any way!” </em>
</p><p><em> Hermione had noticed the slightly bloodshot eyes and dirty clothing, knowing that the house-elf had made progress on her Butterbeer addiction, but… it looked like she had relapsed a bit. She bit her tongue, though, a most insanely difficult thing to do, but… Winky needed care, needed to be </em> needed<em>. What she didn’t need was Gryffindor brashness or her own watered down version of Harry’s “saving people thing.” (And creatures, in her case.) For the time being, she reiterated her simple thanks and let Winky disapparate back to the Hogwarts kitchens. </em></p><p>Draco’s owl landed at the end of her bed as she held a biscuit to her lips. She popped the piece of food into her mouth, gingerly took the envelope from the bird, and as it flew over to a perch she unsheathed her wand from its place on her outer thigh. With a motion from it, she opened and read the letter.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Granger, </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> The position is still open, and your time as well as place of meeting suits. </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> I will see you then. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Sincerely yours, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Draco Malfoy </em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Short, rather abrupt- Draco bloody Malfoy, everyone. His owl looked at her curiously and flew over, pecking her softly on- “Hey, not <em> that </em> arm!” She cradled her left forearm to her chest and stared down the petulant bird. “What do you want?”</p><p>Of course Draco couldn’t simply let her <em> know </em> that his personal owl had to be <em> hand-fed </em> its damned treats before it would fly away. What an absolutely <em> needy </em>thing. But it was beautiful, too, and she couldn’t restrain herself from petting it a few times despite its spoiled nature. Hermione had no doubt that it had been Draco’s owl for years. She almost wanted to give it a Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes’ product to take back to the Slytherin, but she didn’t fancy the possibility of attracting Narcissa’s true ire, even if it was over something so trivial as a rather innocent prank product sent to her only child.</p><p>Though the next day, when Andy’s return letter arrived alongside her subscription to the Daily Prophet, she absentmindedly entertained the idea of pranking Draco through one of his aunts someday.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Hermione, </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> You are most certainly welcome to visit our home at any time! Teddy can use all the aunties and uncles he can get, and he seemed to do well with you at Harry’s party. My daughter would also love to see you- she’s seen plenty of Harry, considering he’s Teddy’s godfather, but she took a liking to you during the war. Says you need to unwind more and maybe she can “help you with that.” Which, if I may be honest, surprises me- as I’ve already said, she has been absolutely heartbroken by Remus’s death and her father’s, so to see her light up at hearing you want to visit? You simply </em> must <em> come, Hermione. </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> I’ve heard that this weekend is the first you’ll be allowed off grounds and away from Hogsmeade? You may apparate to our top doorstep- hidden from Muggle eyes upon detection of apparation, so I’ve attached a photograph of it alongside our address. It’s a small semi-detached house, but it’s home. </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> With care, </em> <em><br/></em> <em> Andy</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>P.S. I should key you in on something: if, when you see my daughter, her hair is a closer shade to Bellatrix’s, she prefers to be called Dora. If her hair is closer to or at my shade of warmer brown, you may call her Tonks.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Huh. Tracing her finger over Andy’s postscript, she thought back to when Tonks had nearly always sported such bright pink hair like traditional bubblegum. She wondered if she would ever see that again. Tonks hadn’t been known for keeping her hair a regular colour, like brown, blonde, or even ginger like the Weasleys. Green? Shocking blue? Purple? Always in the cards, but she’d sported a preference for pink.</p><p>Gods, what the war had taken from them all.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>And what in the <em> world </em> something had taken from her as she vomited up the meals she’d had that Thursday, <em> just </em> before she was supposed to meet Narcissa for another visit to Black Manor. Flushing the toilet of her sick, she glanced down at her wristwatch, a gift sent to her from Mrs. Weasley on her seventeenth birthday, and noticed that she was late for arriving at Black Manor. Ten minutes late. And Hermione Granger was never, <em> never </em>late for anything.</p><p>Her stomach twisted again before she could summon some parchment and quill to try and contact Narcissa, and she missed the sound of her Floo activating in the next room over. She didn’t, however, miss the telltale <em> click-click-click </em> of short heels as they came close to her, settling just behind her kneeling body as she sicked up <em> again</em>.</p><p>“Let me…” she heard Narcissa’s soft, smooth voice, then suddenly a vial of stomach calming potion was held to her lips. She swallowed down the bile threatening to come out and gulped down the draught, feeling her stomach untwist slightly as the potion settled, then started going about its work. Due to the nature of the potion, it didn’t work as instantaneously as some others, but she felt the older witch hold her hair back as she got the last of the sick out of her system before the potion took full effect. A sheen of sweat had gathered all over her face, and without much thought at all, she slumped against Narcissa’s body behind her as her vision faded.</p><p>She wasn’t sure how long she was out until Narcissa verified that it’d only been about half of an hour. “I Floo’d back to Black Manor to let Bella know that you will miss tonight’s visit. She told me she already suspected, because of the bond.” Narcissa cleared her throat, then, “You two… needed a break. Perhaps not the best way to acquire one, but nevertheless.”</p><p>“Oh,” was all she could utter as she rubbed at her eyes, finding herself laying on the bed in her quarters. Narcissa had levitated one of the chairs in front of the fireplace to sit next to her bed, and had been… crocheting? when Hermione had woken up. Digging the heels of her hands over her eyes once more, she sat up, still blinking away the vestiges of whatever that had been- an impromptu nap, perhaps. To recuperate.</p><p>Narcissa shrunk her work and tucked it into one of her cloak’s inner pockets, turning to face Hermione. She surveyed her with one of those intense stares that made Hermione feel as if she had a spotlight shining on her. Shifting in her seat on the bed, she swallowed and was grateful that the bad taste had also vanished from her mouth.</p><p>“Did the potion help?” A useless question considering she wasn’t sicking up anymore. It was empty, searching- something Hermione hadn’t foreseen the older witch asking. Her words always held some sort of purpose, but then it snapped into place: <em> did </em> I <em> help? </em>Hermione looked down at her lap, fingertips fiddling with the hem of her school robe sleeve. She swallowed- a normal one, not trying to keep anything down but her own emotions-</p><p>“Yes, and I’m glad some were on hand.”</p><p><em> Glad </em> you <em> were on hand. </em></p><p>She looked up in time to see Narcissa’s lips tug themselves into a relieved smile. Something about the way she looked- her blonde hair loosened, legs decidedly not crossed, eyes sharing in the relief of her smile- Hermione’s gut twisted again, but not at all in a <em> I’m about to sick up </em> way. Well, at least not sick up in the way she <em> had</em>, though the way words tumbled out of her mouth next, it was nearly as mortifying.</p><p>“I’m meeting your son for lunch on Saturday, and then going to the Tonks’ house, and Bellatrix, I don’t know if she told you, but she sent me a <em>letter</em>- I’ll need to see about restricting her specifically, bond be damned- and it was simply…” she heaved an anxious, tired sigh. “Everything this week and last has been so bloody much, I must have made myself sick from it all.” That was putting it lightly, she’d increasingly felt like scratching her own <em>skin </em>off. But at least her potion worked well enough that she didn’t have to take it <em>every </em>day now, Andy was working on improving it further so its physical reminders didn’t sneak up on her, and her medicinal journal kept her magic aware of when she did need to imbibe another dose.</p><p>Narcissa made a small sound of acknowledgement, then asked, “Have you been using that… what Professor Snyde gave you?” Her eyes glimmered knowingly. Hermione nodded, wanting to bite her tongue about the magical signatures she’d found on the object, but she simply couldn’t.</p><p>“She told me that you gave her one almost just like it after her seventh year. And I… it felt <em> warm </em>to my magic when I first touched it. Then, well-”</p><p>“You read its signatures, didn’t you?” Narcissa questioned, something shining in her eyes as her lips curved into a smile.</p><p>Hermione gave a sheepish grin, then said, “Yes, I did- is that... all right? I didn’t mean to pry, I was merely curious and-” Narcissa waved a dismissive hand before reaching over and resting the same hand upon her thigh.</p><p>“It’s more than <em> all right</em>, Hermione, it’s <em> remarkable</em>,” and she could just <em> hear </em> the barely restrained pride in Narcissa’s voice. “Magical signatures of this sort-” Narcissa paused, then said with a gleam to her eyes, resting her elbows on her thighs as she leaned forward, her loosely curled hands moving to support her chin, “But before I get ahead of myself, do tell me of your findings.”</p><p>“I’ll admit, first off," Hermione said, "that I haven’t <em> quite </em> picked apart the signatures entirely, nor do I understand their innermost workings… but they’re Black family signatures, aren’t they? Centuries old at that?” she asked, cocking her head a bit to the side. Narcissa nodded, urging her on with a tilt of her chin. “I… it was super surprising? The signatures are made up of Light magic, and within, it’s… er, it <em> feels </em> like the casters imbued <em> healing </em> magic? But it’s no type of healing I’ve ever come across- not that I’m an expert in healing magic, though!” she amended, waving one of her hands.</p><p>Narcissa clapped her hands together, brightly smiling towards her, and for a moment Hermione wondered if she was getting a glimpse of what the older woman had looked like as an excitable child. It was incredibly endearing, and she licked her lips, ducking her face for a moment as she pushed stray curls behind her ears. She smoothed down her knee-length school skirt and looked back up, adding, “I’m sure with further knowledge of healing magic and signatures by way of Ancient Runes, I could decipher more. It’s so intriguing, though, Narcissa.”</p><p>“Intriguing, that the House of Black wasn’t always made up of Dark magic users?” the woman asked.</p><p>“Well, that- yes, but also the sheer complexity of it,” Hermione said, scratching at her cheek. “I wonder if I’ll ever unravel all of its magic, or fully understand it.”</p><p>Narcissa tsk’ed. “Do not underestimate yourself, darling. If anyone can work through every single scrap of magic imbued in this journal, it would be you. And when you do? Who knows what it could mean for wizarding society.”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes lit up at that notion of discovery, then with a bit more reflection of how she began with the journal, said, “Though I will admit, before I had a chance to look into the magical signatures... it was a bit difficult to get started with writing in it, considering what Ginny went through with another journal several years ago.”</p><p>Narcissa paled almost imperceptibly, but Hermione noticed. The older witch clenched her jaw for a moment, then said, “I… I hope you know that I did not play a part in that… what my husband did to the youngest Weasley. That was something he... He did it behind my back, without my knowledge.” Hermione watched as Narcissa swallowed thickly but didn’t avert her eyes as she looked at her.</p><p>“I wish…” Hermione started, curling her hands into fists, eyes unfocusing as she remembered the end of her second year and the start of her third. “If there’s one thing I wish your husband knew, could experience for <em> himself</em>, is how Ginny Weasley- she, she climbed into my four-poster nearly every night until term ended once I was healed from the Basilisk's petrification. She was <em> terrified of herself</em>. So much so that at first I had to convince her that she <em> could </em> sleep with me, considering what she’d inadvertently done to me. I had to keep telling her it wasn’t her fault, which it <em> wasn’t</em>, it was your-” she sucked in a breath, as well as every foul word she thought about Lucius Malfoy threatening to spill out in front of his <em> wife</em>.</p><p>“Yet another action of his that I cannot forgive him for,” Narcissa replied simply.</p><p>Hermione wanted to ask. She wanted to know <em> why</em>. But she held her tongue, yet forgot to move her gaze as the tiniest of nudges against her mind saw what was so clearly displayed at the forefront. A flash of perception in those pale blue eyes as the presence retreated, and, “Self-preservation is a double-edged sword, Hermione. I know not whether staying or leaving Lucius is the... <em> right </em>choice.”</p><p>She peered at the older witch curiously. “Help me understand… what <em> right </em> means.” She hadn’t meant for her voice to come out so pleadingly. She wanted to understand so badly, why anyone would believe it <em> right </em>to stay married to such a man. Such a despicable excuse for a wizard, especially when she knew now that Narcissa wasn’t who she had thought her to be in previous years. Narcissa dipped her head in a faint semblance of a nod, then raised her eyes towards the ceiling for a moment as she appeared to gather her thoughts.</p><p>Slowly, she started. “At one point, I did truly love Lucius, and he felt the same, or our marriage vows would not have taken due to my father’s insistence. Over time, though… and after Draco… things started to change. Now…” Narcissa crossed her legs, rubbing at one of her eyes for a moment, “staying married to Lucius, staying a <em> Malfoy, </em>serves as a safety net and acts as penance that might please society. Safe in a certain way, because it is all I have ever known for the past twenty-odd years. Penance, to keep the name, always a reminder to myself, to <em>society</em>, as to…” she trailed off, eyes distant. After several seconds, she cleared her throat and continued. “Leaving Lucius? Means to lose that tremulous safety net I have known, but lends itself to the notion of starting over again as a Black. Though I am quite aware the Black name is… weighted down with its own transgressions.</p><p>“Each of these options are something of a double-edged sword, both the easiest and more difficult choice depending on how I look at them, and that <em> how </em> changes every day. I am not sure <em> which </em> is the right choice.”</p><p>“So...” Hermione started, mulling over Narcissa’s words, forming her own as carefully as she could. “Easy, difficult, <em> safe</em>, right… what about what you <em> want</em>, Narcissa? Does what you want have nothing to do with it?”</p><p>Narcissa laughed at that, she was sodding well-! Hermione shook her head slightly and pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation, but listened intently as Narcissa clarified once her laughter came to a halt.</p><p>“Oh, it has <em> everything </em>to do with what I want, which is to carve out a place for myself in this new post-war world that is accepted by society. I am a self-serving Slytherin, am I not?” her lips twitched, almost grinning for a moment, “These reparations are part of that… started somewhat begrudgingly, with the aim of reintegrating into society, though I…" Narcissa hesitated for a moment, "You are such a naturally endearing woman, Hermione, that ‘begrudgingly’ changed into ‘willingly’ rather quickly for my own tastes.”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes lit up mischievously, nearly preening at the praise. “Oh, did my somewhat brash and honest Gryffindor nature win you over?”</p><p>“Unfortunately,” Narcissa drawled with no bite whatsoever, her lips curving into a small smile.</p><p>“Perhaps you should go after what you, and only <em> you </em> want whether that’s safe or not,” Hermione offered, “Or, long-term, which will bring you the most <em> happiness</em>? I’m not one for Divination,” Hermione rolled her eyes, “But everyone has a future they <em> want</em>. And usually, well, it’s the difficult choice, and difficult situations, that lead to happiness, even if that road to happiness is riddled with pain. Better than the stagnancy of <em> safe</em>, though I know you’ll say-”</p><p>“That’s the <em> Gryffindor </em>in you talking, yes,” Narcissa teased.</p><p>A wry grin tugged at Hermione’s lips. “Tell me there’s some good in that <em> Gryffindor </em>way of thinking- even you’ve got to admit that, Narcissa.”</p><p>The older witch grumbled under her breath a moment, then met her eyes again, mirth dancing in the pale blue as a light dusting of pink appeared on her cheeks. “Self-preservation and Gryffindor thinking, surprisingly, go rather well together in this case.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“Good afternoon, Granger,” the pale blond wizard bowed, taking her hand in his own to lightly kiss the knuckles. As he stood back up, he gestured towards the privacy warded booth, and she stepped into her side first, with him swiftly following into the other.</p><p>“Good afternoon to you as well, Draco,” she supplied as she scanned the menu again, settling on a meal of roast chicken, baked potato, and green beans. They exchanged paltry pleasantries as they ordered, she sipping at a Sauvignon Blanc while he drank from a glass of Zinfandel. It was only when their meals arrived that she brought up her main reason for coming back to this restaurant.</p><p>“Assuming the position has not been filled within the last few days, I still accept joining the BSRA as its Muggle-born co-head. If I can help pave the way for progress for better blood status relations, I want to do everything I can.”</p><p>Draco raised an eyebrow and remarked, “Even I wouldn’t be so rude as to not inform you if the position was closed, Granger… at least not these days.” She shrugged and swallowed some wine between bites of her meal while he cut off more of his grilled duck. “But sure, I’ll send you the parchment work you’ll need to sign to officially accept the position.”</p><p>He looked at her, and she felt an odd, slight sense of déjà vu- oh, he’d gotten that intense surveying gaze from his mother, that’s what. She thought back to the letter, and it suddenly came to her-</p><p>“Also, I wanted to say that I… I accept your apology from the last time we were here. I’ve had more than enough time to think about it. This doesn’t mean, though, that I will refrain from ever slapping you in the face again if you’re a right prat, <em> Draco</em>,” she teased with a smile that she hoped came across as <em> I won’t really slap you again</em>.</p><p>The Slytherin man smirked. “Oh, I don’t doubt it, Granger- I’m sure Weasley has earned himself plenty of them, and he’s your <em> boyfriend</em>.”</p><p>“I-!” Oh Merlin, she wasn’t sure which got under her skin more, the fact he was accusing her of physically harming Ronald, which had <em> not </em> happened since he returned from leaving her and Harry in the wilderness last year, or the way he nearly sneered out the word boyfriend. Sure, she may not quite want that kind of relationship with him, but- “I have not slapped or hurt Ron in <em> any </em> way since- since <em> last year</em>, I’ll have you know! And he… I shouldn’t have, ever. It was wrong of me. And I was… I’m <em> joking</em>, I know your mother would not hesitate to string me upside down if I, well- I <em> wouldn’t</em>. Also, so what if Ron’s my <em> boyfriend</em>?”</p><p>Draco shrugged a shoulder in half-answer. “He’s… I’m not the right bloke to say anything good about Weasley, but- and do <em> not </em> take this like I’m <em> hitting </em>on you, Granger- but you could do a bit better than the ginger. But... thank you for accepting the apology.”</p><p>“A bit<em> better</em>? Ronald is one of the <em> best </em>men I know, thank you very much-”</p><p>Why was she defending him so after what had happened the last time they’d seen each other? She mentally shook her head of the thought. It was natural. They’d known each other for so long, it should come to her as easily as reciting parts from <em> Hogwarts: A History</em>.</p><p>“Oh, spare me, Granger,” Draco drawled, again… way too much like his mother. “Don’t get your bloody knickers in a twist over it.”</p><p>Hermione snorted. “<em>Please </em>tell me you don’t use that language around your mum.”</p><p>“What kind of <em> barbarian </em> do you take me for, Granger?” Draco said incredulously, placing a splayed hand over his heart, though a smirk played at his lips. “Speaking of my mother, though,” his smirk faltered slightly, index finger fiddling with his napkin, “She’s somehow grown... fond of you. Merlin spare me, but she’s seemed brighter these days because of you, even in her letters to me where she <em> talks </em>about you. So, whatever you’re doing, please... keep at it. However bloody ridiculous it seems, even knowing of her true allegiances now.”</p><p>“Ah, well, thank you for that,” Hermione said, finishing off her plate a few minutes after he had his. “I have wondered if… if your father knows-”</p><p>Draco made a thoroughly disparaging noise. “Oh if he did, he’d right well start the divorce proceedings himself. I’ve half a mind to go to Azkaban and lord his <em>wife’s </em>‘blood-traitor’ worldviews over him, but Mother has convinced me not to.”</p><p>Ah, so it appeared that he knew about the entire potential <em> divorce </em>thing as well. It shouldn’t surprise her. Narcissa had likely mentioned and spoke of it for some time now. Andy had to know as well, she figured.</p><p>What did somewhat surprise her was his genuine interest in the additional reparations she’d brought up to his mother, commenting that, “You’ve got a good eye, Granger.” (Compliment? That was new.) “Crabbe and Goyle’s mothers are an easy in, and I’ve started checking into the possibility of Lee and Macnair as well. Others will pose... something of a challenge, considering prior entanglements with the Malfoy name, but I’m up for it.” His smug smirk reminded her of how he’d looked in their earlier years at Hogwarts, but it wasn’t to intimidate her- merely to show he could still easily pull that side out of him and put it on display.</p><p>Her wristwatch chimed, vibrating along her pulse point. “Oh, shite! I’m sorry, Draco, but I promised your Aunt Andromeda that I’d visit her, Tonks, and Teddy today.” She looked up at him with apologetic eyes- after all, they’d been getting along extraordinarily well for two people who, to put it lightly, hadn’t been fond of each other during their shared school years- though in the same moment another thought occurred to her. “Unless…” she ventured slowly, figuring it worth it to extend an olive branch, “would you like to come, too? She is your aunt, after all.”</p><p>Draco shrugged as if it didn’t really matter either way to him, though she didn’t miss the light shine of hopefulness in his grey eyes. “Mum... would like that, too- extending a willow branch- so… I don’t see why not.” She nearly questioned his usage of willow instead of olive branch, but it came to her that he was a pure-blood, and therefore he’d had no reason to be acquainted with the Christian symbolism of an olive branch. What was more intriguing to her, though, was how had he slipped and called his mother <em> mum </em> in front of her. Maybe they <em> were </em>getting somewhere. She was glad that she hadn’t gone for her first instinct and gone marching into the Ministry to try and instill some of her... rather misguided sense into him. No telling how far that would have set them back, and even worse- it would have driven a wedge between herself and Narcissa.</p><p>“Great!” she said to his agreeableness, but even more so his spot of courage. Smiling brightly, she was about to offer side-along, hesitating only as- “Oh! Just, er, let me make a quick trip to the loo, and after I can apparate us to their topmost doorstep. It’s hidden from Muggles when it senses apparition, so they won’t have a heart attack from suddenly seeing people appear out of thin air.”</p><p>She wasn’t really sure that he’d wait for her, trust still in the process of building a foundation, so it was a pleasant surprise seeing him leaning against the edge of their now empty table when she came back from the ladies’ toilet. He freely extended his hand to her, another heavy stone added to the foundation, and after they exited the restaurant she tightened her grip on his hand as she drew her wand, feeling that telltale pull behind her navel and the twist of her stomach as they apparated to Andy’s home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>narcissa spends time with her sisters, draco meets his aunt andromeda and her daughter for the first time, and a surprise guest shows up at the tonks' residence, coming to a decision in the process.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello hello and happy thursday to you all! also happy turkey day if you're in the usa. don't think I've said this, but I chose to publish on Thursdays (local time, at least) because that's when Hermione and Bellatrix have their arrangement to meet every week in the fic.</p>
<p>oh and- holy shit, I had a dream??? with hermione and narcissa in it?? first time that's happened. guess I, as the author, am actually growing impatient with *myself* because narcissa was in a comfy club chair and hermione was sitting on one of the arm rests with her legs over the other arm rest. also narcissa had her hand on hermione's upper arm and was trying to get her to sit on her lap instead. believe i woke up right when she managed to pull a cheeky hermione onto her lap. anyway. i'm gay and *apparently* want my own damn self to go ahead and write them simply being happy together. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯</p>
<p>thanks again to Erin26_94 for beta reading, thank you all for reading, commenting, etc, and hope u all enjoy this chapter!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had taken over a week for Bellatrix to get to this point with her. The first time she had returned to see her on her own, a day or so prior to the evening in which Hermione had proven too ill to come to the manor, she’d had to put a barrier at the bedroom doorway to prevent Bellatrix from physically attacking her- and there she’d <em> thought </em> she had given her oldest sister enough time to calm down. Her eyes wild with rage and agony, she’d screamed, <em> “How </em> <b> <em>dare</em> </b> <em> you stand idly by while they- while they </em> did <em> that to me, Narcissa! You know… you…” </em></p>
<p>Bellatrix had sat down by the side of the bed frame and thrown several objects at the barrier she’d created in between sobs. She blinked at the surprisingly small-seeming form of her larger-than-life sister, brought down by her own memories. Their mother was long deceased, but she still clearly had a hold on Bella. She’d swallowed thickly, casting her eyes down to see all of the broken glass and wood at her feet. Several <em> reparo</em>s righted it all, and a few more spells sent everything back to its place.</p>
<p>“Do think, then, before you try to harm my magic again,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “and you won’t need to be subjected to such Ministry tactics. I cannot convince them to… go easy on you.”</p>
<p>She’d left with Bella’s intense glare boring into her back, barrier dismantled, but her sister hadn’t followed her to attack in any way. Progress.</p>
<p>The next time, after settling Hermione down for the evening instead of acting as intermediary again, she had returned to speak further with her sister. For whatever it was worth, Bellatrix apologised to her. She wouldn’t- no, <em> couldn’t</em>- apologise for what the Ministry had done, <em> “they have no awareness of how Mother punished you, nor would they care,”  </em> but told her yet again, that if she merely <em> didn’t </em> crack through the wards, she needn’t go through that experience again. If she didn’t try to <em> hurt </em>Hermione again… though that went unsaid. Bella already surmised too much without her adding kindling to the fire.</p>
<p>She’d sat with Bellatrix in silence for fifteen minutes until her sister muttered, “At least that damned Muggle-born isn’t making me feel vaguely ill anymore,” and moved to rest her head in Narcissa’s lap. Narcissa’s lips tightened, drawn into a thin line as she swallowed around a lump that had formed in her throat, eyeing her sister warily before placing a hand in her almost black hair. It felt like betraying Hermione- much more of a fresh wound compared to Alice- but Bellatrix... <em> fuck</em>. She wished that she couldn’t remember the Bella from before, sometimes. It would make everything so much easier. And it <em> had </em> been so much easier in the heat of the moment, right as it happened- just as it had right after she had learned of what Bellatrix had done to another woman she had cared for, so many years ago. She’d left with a heavy heart that night.</p>
<p>“Any progress on the suppressant, Cissy?” Bella asked on this Saturday morning, and she could hear her older sister’s joints cracking as she stretched while they walked the long corridor that they both had access to within Black Manor. Narcissa hummed, pulling out the relevant notes she had compiled and handed them over to her sister. Bellatrix’s eyes rapidly scanned the ink that had settled onto the parchment, then clicked her tongue, shaking her head slowly. “Physical manifestations… I’ve yet to see anything.”</p>
<p>Narcissa led them both out onto the rear balcony of the manor, coming to a stop at the banister while Bellatrix started to slowly pace to the edge of her allotted space and back, wards shimmering so she would know where to halt and turn around before hurting herself. “I expected as much,” Narcissa said, her eyes sweeping over the vast expanse of ancestral Black land. “It will soon be six months since the process began, though, so it should reveal itself shortly, I would hope. Considering how it has developed so far, we know that its power grows over time. Keep a watch out for anything new, and I will continue to observe from an outside perspective.”</p>
<p>Standing almost shoulder-to-shoulder against the banister, they lapsed into what was almost a companionable silence for all of a few minutes until Bellatrix unsheathed her wand and cast a <em> wingardium leviosa </em> on a white-painted bench that sat behind them, then threw the entire object into the gardens below, narrowly missing one of the house-elves. The elf didn’t even react, which didn’t surprise Narcissa, but she barely repressed her own urge to disarm her sister after slightly startling at the sudden action. Her right hand clenched around her wand as she turned to say something, but then looked on as Bellatrix cast <em> reparo </em>on the broken piece of outdoor furniture, and as she levitated the repaired bench back into its proper spot.</p>
<p>She stared at Bellatrix, who, upon noticing, almost brusquely said, “What? It’s <em> boring </em> around here, Narcissa. Dreadfully so, and it’s not as if I would <em> hurt </em> the house-elves as you so clearly <em> saw</em>. They know I won’t injure them. And a witch must entertain herself <em> somehow</em>- at least I put the ruddy thing back together!” Narcissa felt her eye twitch.</p>
<p>“Just…” she sighed, resting a hand over one of her eyes as a headache started to bloom, “don’t do that sort of magic around the Aurors, Bella. Showcasing a penchant for destruction will do nothing good for any sort of… potential rehabilitation.” At the mention of the word, Bellatrix guffawed, holding her arms around her torso.</p>
<p>“<em>Rehabilitation</em>? Is that what they’re going for here?” she nearly cackled, rubbing at the unshed tears that had sprouted from her laughter. “Even if the world froze over and I <em> did </em> manage it, I couldn’t go anywhere in this sodding <em> country </em> without someone attempting to kill me! There’s no reason, none at all to <em> care </em> about this rehabilitation hogwash, Cissy. We’re <em> all </em>branded, even you- and don’t tell me you can go around without getting hexed! That ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ Potter can only do so bloody much, even for you.”</p>
<p>Narcissa folded her hands against the banister and let out a soft exhale. “Honestly, I am not certain of what they are ‘going for,’ Bella, beyond the <em> obvious</em>, but… I won’t let them send you to Azkaban again. You may be sentenced to a life of house arrest, or you may be allowed outside with protections and restrictions on your person for the rest of your life. The outcome rests on your shoulders, though I will… do whatever I can, within reason. You are...” she sighed, “still my sister, even after everything.”</p>
<p>She’d gone to sit down on the bench that Bellatrix had destroyed only to repair, and the other witch joined her shortly after, wrapping a strong arm around her. Narcissa shivered at the contact, part of her wanting to shove Bella away, the other wanting to curl into the other witch, like she had when they were children, when her sister had been her protector. She settled for reaching a hand up to place on Bellatrix’s as it rested on her upper arm.</p>
<p>“I think… I think I’m going to divorce Lucius, Bella,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. Bellatrix’s fingers pressed into the skin underneath her robes’ sleeve.</p>
<p>“So... you’ve talked to someone else about it?” It was… surprising to hear that come from her sister. She had rather expected her to bask in being the one to convince her to leave “that ruddy peacock-loving pillock,” but… no. Narcissa felt as if she’d traveled back in time for a moment, when Bellatrix had been whole. Or as whole as she’d ever seen her decades ago.</p>
<p>She bit down on her lip and nodded, then added, “Though I still need to speak again with someone else before I make that irreversible decision.” Andy’s face came almost to the front of her mind before she naturally Occluded, though she knew Bellatrix wasn’t using any Legilimency on her. <em> Yet</em>. She had already spoken to her other sister a few times about her husband, but she had always left the Tonks’ home still unsure to some degree.</p>
<p>After speaking with someone outside of the family, though- <em> Hermione</em>- she knew in her magic that she only… only needed one more push. One more discussion, with a sister she knew she could steadfastly rely on to help guide her through the process, who could provide her with the aftercare she would so desperately need, and she… she could go through with it. She could move forward. Whatever that entailed.</p>
<p>Life certainly wasn’t growing quiet after the war. That was the only certainty.</p>
<p><em> “You know you </em> like <em> it, Cissa, even if only a bit,” Andy had playfully nudged their shoulders together while she visited the Tonks’ residence recently. “Pretend all you like that you would enjoy a stationary, marionette life, but deep down in this so-called icy heart,” -Andy jabbed a finger just above and to the right of her left breast- “You never liked that, did you? I </em> did <em> take note of your photographs in the society section of the Daily Prophet, after all. Can never fool a sister, however long we were apart.” </em></p>
<p><em> She’d rested her head on Andromeda’s shoulder and loosely wrapped an arm around the other. “I thought I could grow to love it, Andy. Fooled myself for so long, fell into the role. ‘Ice Queen,’ I heard them call me- I wasn’t </em> deaf<em>, wasn’t </em> blind<em>. But you…” </em></p>
<p><em> “I remember little Cissa, boundless energy, always keen to learn everything she could, </em> always <em> chasing after Bella and I…” Andy’s words tapered off for a moment, warm breath exhaled against her hair. “Ice can melt... </em> does <em> melt. And Hermione is helping out quite a bit with that, isn’t she?” </em></p>
<p>
  <em> Narcissa could only laugh her agreement. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Draco <em> bloody </em> Malfoy! <em> Mum</em>, come here!”</p>
<p>Hermione had quickly informed the blond wizard of hair colours and preferred names before rapping on the front door to the Tonks’ residence. To her pleasant surprise, it was a warm brown-haired <em> Tonks </em> who opened the door, mouth falling into a small <em> ‘oh’ </em> shape as her hazel eyes (that distinctly reminded Hermione of Remus Lupin’s) fell from Hermione’s form- wholly expected- to Draco’s, which was thoroughly <em> unexpected</em>.</p>
<p>“Well, come on in, you two!” Tonks grinned, though it didn’t fully reach her eyes. “Mum is putting Teddy down for a kip, so we’ll need to be-”</p>
<p>“<em>Quiet? </em> ” came an endearingly warm yet chastising voice. “Unlike yourself when yelling for me while trying to get <em> your </em>son to sleep?” Hermione looked over Tonks’ shoulder, finding Andromeda standing at the bottom of the stairwell, a hand on her hip. Tonks turned, and the way Andy’s slightly peeved face melted at her daughter’s look, oh- oh yes, everything was all right. As all right as it could be.</p>
<p>Andy came over, resting a hand on one of her daughter’s shoulders and flashing a warm smile in Hermione’s direction before taking a good look at Draco. “Well, as I dare live and breathe, you’re my nephew, aren’t you?” She looked the wizard up and down, a smirk playing at her lips.</p>
<p>Draco swallowed hard. “Er, yes, I’d suppose so, considering my mother was a Black, and she- she’s mentioned you. A bit.” Oh, <em> wow</em>, was she getting a rare sight of <em> awkward </em> Draco Malfoy? Hermione's mouth twitched as she barely suppressed her grin.</p>
<p>“Come here, young man,” Andromeda said, opening her arms up to him. Draco’s grey eyes widened, clearly shocked at the warm welcome, but went into his aunt’s hug willingly, though he took a few moments to return it, awkwardness melting into genuine appreciation. Probably in relief that he had at least <em> one </em> aunt who wasn’t… well, whatever Bellatrix <em> was</em>. Even he hadn’t been to see her since her life had been spared at the Battle of Hogwarts.</p>
<p>The two were soon joined by Tonks, and of course Hermione got herself added to the hug pile somehow. Likely through Tonks’ wily methods- something she was sure had come from the metamorphmagus’s Slytherin mother instead of her Hufflepuff father, his shining face still present in a Wizarding family photograph in the residence’s foyer. Though, in a way, Hermione had to admit that Hufflepuff and Slytherin, taking out the whole pure-blood supremacy bit, <a id="return1" name="return1"></a>were a little bit like two sides of the same coin<sup>[<a href="#note1">1</a>]</sup>, at least when it came to a few things. Not that she’d ever mention <em> that </em>to Draco.</p>
<p>It was as they were taking their tea in the small sitting room that something of a soft lullaby alarm sounded from Tonks’ wand, and Tonks rushed to her feet, frantically saying something about, “Oh, he’s awake!” before sprinting off. Hermione looked to Andromeda, watching as the older witch shook her head slightly, eyes closed, and remarked, “It’ll be a wonder if she doesn’t fall up those steps. Hermione,” she opened her eyes, gazing at her, “Could you check on my daughter, please?”</p>
<p>“Oh!” she got up to her feet, “Of course, I’ll-” She nodded briskly and went after Tonks, climbing the steps two at a time until she heard a soft cooing, entering into- oh Merlin, it was the <em> sweetest sight</em>. Tonks was gently cradling Teddy in her arms, rocking him back and forth as she walked about the boy’s nursery room. The walls were painted in a pastel colour-changing paint, complete with a charm to paint the ceiling with the sky above the house, though she doubted they included any troubling weather patterns to them- perhaps a gentle rain at the most. A small part of her ached to have not had this experience when growing up, though she still wouldn’t trade her Muggle parents for the world.</p>
<p>(Except… she had, in a way, hadn’t she? No- no, she couldn’t go down that line of thinking right now. <em>Stay in the </em>present,<em> Granger,</em> she reminded herself.)</p>
<p>“Hermione!” Tonks greeted her, inadvertently helping to force her out of her own head, a bright smile lighting up the older witch’s face as her already warm brown hair lightened a bit more. “Mum’s said you’ve already met my little Teddy and held him?”</p>
<p>“Yes, I have,” she remembered, thinking back to that day at the Burrow, before her memories had grown muddled due to the firewhisky. “He was splendid, and Andy cast little greenfinches to amuse him. How old is he now?”</p>
<p>“He’ll be five months on the twentieth.” Tonks walked over to her, and Teddy turned his head to take in Hermione. A soft smile tugged at her lips and she found herself extending her index finger towards his tiny balled up fist, and the boy opened his hand up, letting her place the tip of her finger on his palm. He giggled as he roughly experimented with his fine motor control, bending and unbending his fingers, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat as his smooth baby blue hair curled slightly and incorporated some brown locks that were not too far off from her own shade.</p>
<p>Tonks looked on with pride, and as Teddy extended his free arm towards Hermione, asked her if she’d like to hold him. Eagerly agreeing, since she’d already held the boy to success once, she took him in her arms much like how Tonks had held him, only needing to adjust positioning a little bit. The older witch said she’d be back in “just a mo’” with his purée, and for decidedly <em> longer </em>than what Hermione would term a moment, she was left rocking little Teddy, exploring the room until she found a small wolf stuffie sitting on a countertop that she was able to wandlessly levitate into Teddy’s greedy little fingers. He cuddled it to him, going so far as to wrap his lips around one of the ears while she stood at the window that allowed a decent amount of sunlight in, but was clearly spelled to show an open meadow instead of the surrounding homes.</p>
<p>“He’s really taken with you, Hermione,” Tonks’ familiar voice reached her ears a couple of minutes later. Hermione turned around and immediately wished she hadn’t placed the wolf stuffie into Teddy’s hands- but, oh, they were happy tears? Sort of? Tonks brought the glass jar of banana purée over with her and petted the stuffie with the tips of two of her fingers before clearing her throat and asking if she’d like to sit in the rocker and hold her son while she fed him. Once she’d agreed and sat on a plush rocker that Tonks cast to still while Teddy was fed, Hermione watched as the boy’s mum sat on an armrest and spooned the purée into her son’s small mouth.</p>
<p>“Takes his food well, doesn’t he?” another voice drifted over to them from the doorway. Andy’s eyes were filled with such tender warmth that Hermione thought the woman could melt ice with them. </p>
<p>Tonks snorted as she put the lid back onto the small glass jar, setting it on a small table nearby. “You don’t remember the Purée Apocalypse of… what, three weeks ago, Mum?”</p>
<p>“Purée… apocalypse?” Hermione asked, brow creasing as she pulled a bewildered face.</p>
<p>“Exploded at least twenty glass jars all at once, sending the stuff <em> everywhere</em>, Hermione, though he managed to melt the glass down so it didn’t hurt anyone. Considerate one, he is!” Tonks glanced down at her son, still in Hermione’s hold. “Someone's gonna be a powerful wizard like their fath-” Her hazel eyes widened in a flash, and Hermione hardly had time to register it, but Andromeda was so fast to reach her daughter’s side and pull her into her arms, holding her close as Tonks held a hand to her eyes, almost silent cries coming from her as tears ran down her cheeks.</p>
<p>“Let’s get you into bed, all right, dear?” Andy said, almost too softly for Hermione to hear, before pressing a kiss to her daughter’s temple and helping her out of the room, leaving Hermione with… well, closer to a newborn than a one-year-old baby.</p>
<p>In the ten or so minutes that she was alone with Teddy, she ran her fingers through his hair, now back to some shade of light blue (though it flickered to other colours every so often for no discernible rhyme or reason), and was torn between a feeling of discomfit and ease. She’d no siblings of her own, and though the fact of her small family meant that she’d had very few people to modify memories of, it also meant she’d no cousins to ever care for. She still had no idea how to change a baby’s nappy or… in general, take proper care of one all on her own. Fortunately, it seemed with a decent amount of food in him, Teddy was falling into a sleep again- or at least, he was blinking like he needed to sleep but was fighting it.</p>
<p>A thought, or rather, a fragment of a memory came to her: one of her mother singing nursery rhymes to her as a tiny girl. She worked to pull one together, and began to softly sing to the baby wizard in her arms. </p>
<p>
  <em> “Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…” </em>
</p>
<p>He faced her, watching her intently- was that a Black family trait, she wondered? She ran the back of her pinky over one of his cheeks softly and continued through the song, until, <em> “‘Tis your bright and tiny spark, lights the trav’ller in the dark, tho’ I know not what you are, twinkle, twinkle, little star,” </em>had the small boy asleep in her arms. She breathed out a gentle relieved sigh and let herself rest her head against the cushioned headrest behind her, practically content to fall asleep herself at this point.</p>
<p>“Well, Miss Granger,” a soft voice had her blinking her eyes open in a daze. “I wasn’t aware that you could sing so beautifully.” Focusing her eyes, she tilted her head a tad to the right, towards the door, and after a sharp intake of breath said just as softly, hoping that Teddy wouldn’t wake, “Narcissa? What are you-”</p>
<p>“Shh, sweetheart, someone’s-” she pointed at the small bundle in Hermione’s arms, “sleeping.” And yeah, now she was worried the boy might wake to the sound of her <em> heart </em> hammering in her chest. She flushed, watching as Narcissa- sans <em> click</em>ing heels, sans <em> shoes </em>at all, only stockings! padded into the room, settling to her knees in front of Hermione and Teddy. “He looks content, almost more so than when Andy holds him,” the older witch whispered conspiratorially to her, raising her eyes from Teddy’s sleeping form to Hermione.</p>
<p>“I- I’m surprised, happily, that you’re here,” she started, voice as soft as a feather hitting the floor, “But… why?” <em> Why didn’t you tell me you’d be here, too? </em>went unsaid, but hopefully understood.</p>
<p>Narcissa shifted slightly on her knees before stilling- she must have wordlessly applied a cushioning charm beneath her weight. “I hadn’t… planned on coming. Today, at least. But once Draco arrived with you- a bit afterward, I suppose- Andy Floo’d into the manor, and I simply couldn’t turn down her invitation to join the family, especially as this is the first time my son is meeting her. You were already up here by the time I arrived… about twenty or so minutes ago?” the blonde seemed to surmise, tapping a thumb to her jawline.</p>
<p>“Andy already loves your son,” Hermione murmured with a smirk tugging at her lips. “Piled on a hug. It was <em> adorable</em>, I must admit.”</p>
<p>“Ah,” Narcissa breathed, blue eyes twinkling, “That sounds just like her. She was always the most… demonstrably warm of the three of us. Mother tried to…” Narcissa gently cleared her throat, averting her eyes for an instant. “Tried to squash it out of her, but it was futile. All for the better. But…” the older witch hesitated, getting back to her feet. “I do apologise, Hermione, but I did plan on visiting my sister tomorrow to discuss something… personal, with her, and find now is as good a time as any. May I put Teddy in his cot so you can join Draco in the sitting room while I speak with my sister?”</p>
<p>Hermione looked down at the still sleeping Teddy and nodded, standing up before carefully handing over the boy to his great-aunt. Though it may have been some time since Narcissa had regularly held a baby herself, she took to Teddy with a natural ease that Hermione almost envied her for. Which was… a rather, actually <em> really </em>odd feeling to have, especially as it was accompanied by a sense of fondness to watch the other woman place the boy in his cot before casting what she assumed were additional Black family safety charms around it. They certainly weren’t any safety charms that she was familiar with, though she knew she didn't know too many of them, hadn't had a tangible reason to learn.</p>
<p>With a short nod in Hermione’s direction, Narcissa quietly left the room and turned to the left, her footsteps again missing that distinctive <em> click </em>of heels- she wondered, had Narcissa taken them off when she arrived? She knew that the two Black sisters had reconciled to some degree, but she hadn’t a clue as to exactly how much. It was clear that she felt comfortable enough to remove her shoes and decide to speak with her sister on something that… sounded like it was of great importance to her. Hermione found herself happy for Narcissa that she had found that sort of ease and trust with Andromeda again. They both deserved it.</p>
<p>After checking on Teddy once more, noting that his hair was now a honey brown- perhaps his natural colour? she quietly left the room and made her way back downstairs, where she found Draco lounging on the sofa, his feet propped up on top of the coffee table as he held a large book in his hands. With a sharp enough footstep to announce herself, she was treated to the view of Draco Malfoy startling violently, hurriedly removing his feet from the table and turning towards her with a completely stricken look on his face, the book still clutched within his hands. She noticed that it only had Wizarding photographs in it- a family album Andy had shared with him?</p>
<p>“Mother, I- <em> oh</em>, it’s you, Granger,” he said with poorly concealed relief, shocked eyes shutting as he exhaled before looking at her again.</p>
<p>She giggled. “Yes, it’s <em> me</em>. Your mother is speaking to her sister upstairs, probably where Tonks is lying down. Before you ask, she didn’t say <em> what </em> they’re talking about, but it seemed like it was rather important to her. Teddy’s fast asleep in his cot. But,” she grinned, “more importantly to me, it sounds like <em> someone </em>wasn’t raised to put his feet on the furniture?”</p>
<p>Oh Merlin, she <em> needed </em> a bloody camera! Should get one strapped to her at all times, because memory simply was <em> not </em> enough to catch the sight of Draco Malfoy <em> blushing! </em>He tousled his hair with his hands and scuffed the sole of one of his shoes against the flooring. “Fuck you, Granger,” he said, sliding one hand down a side of his face, “I thought you were my mother, all right? She, er, she’d have my head finding me treating Aunt Andy’s furniture like this. ‘Common mudblood behavior,’ she used to call it. Pardon my use of the slur.”</p>
<p>Oh, he was already on Aunt <em> Andy </em> terms with the middle Black sister? It appeared that rather a lot had happened in her time spent with Tonks and Teddy, though they’d been getting along all right before she’d gone after Tonks- Andy <em> had </em>kept on nudging the wizard to call her by her nickname instead of Andromeda. Hermione grinned, finding she was steadily growing to actually like this improving Draco Malfoy.</p>
<p>She strode over to settle crossed arms on top of the backrest of the sofa and, taking a chance, scritched at the crown of the blond’s head until he jerked away, glaring at her without <em> too </em>much malicious intent. “Would rather ‘fuck’ a witch, Draco, unfortunately you don’t meet that criteria.” The man flushed an even deeper red, but didn’t say anything. Well, that was proof that at least Narcissa’s open-mindedness seemed to have passed to her son. For a moment there, her heart had lurched- damned Gryffindor recklessness getting one up on her. She cleared her throat and changed back to the topic at hand. “Your mum truly did uphold that facade well, didn’t she? Haven’t heard a full ‘mudblood’ out of her mouth since… before the battle?”</p>
<p>The Slytherin shrugged. “She’s always been brilliant at keeping parts of herself hidden, honestly I... should have seen it, looking back. Father... was always the most boastful of his views, plain as day- didn’t need Legilimency to see his truth, but she was… subdued, except for when a situation called for more. Thinking back to before sixth year, after we had that run-in with you, Potter, and Weasley?” Draco hesitated a moment, then continued, “She was quiet, unnaturally so even for her, and after we arrived back at the manor, I didn’t see her at all until the next day.”</p>
<p>“You know, it wouldn’t kill you to start truly calling us by our first names, <em> Draco</em>,” she quipped good-naturedly, her earlier intent to not rush the wizard slipping from her mind at their easy dialogue. “Unless,” she gasped, covering her mouth in mock terror, “it <em> would </em> kill you? Did someone place a <em> curse </em>on you? I could find them and persuade them into taking it off, you know.” She tapped the tip of her wand against an open palm, trying to pull off some kind of ‘murderous intent’ look that she was sure she was failing pretty spectacularly at.</p>
<p>“Bloody hell, <em> no</em>, no one did such a thing…” he paused for a long moment, then, enunciating every syllable, “<em>Her-mi-o-ne </em>.” His shoulders shook a little as he chuckled softly, and he nearly put his feet back onto the coffee table before they both heard footsteps coming down the stairwell. For her part, Hermione turned to her side and leaned against the back of the sofa trying to look the picture of calmness despite what had just transpired, and Draco crossed his legs, one ankle resting atop the opposite knee, presumably one of the ways he’d been taught to sit like a gentleman.</p>
<p>The two Black sisters were side by side, Narcissa moving slightly so her head leaned against Andromeda’s shoulder. After a moment observing the room, Narcissa withdrew herself, the elder sister pressed a kiss to the younger’s temple, and- oh, Narcissa looked absolutely <em> exquisite, </em> like there was a newfound glow to her that, well, sent a shot of heat through Hermione that <em> really </em> had her having completely inappropriate thoughts around the woman’s sister and <em> son</em>. Draco, she saw, had also gotten a good look at his mother, his eyebrows shooting up near the line of his fringe.</p>
<p>“Mother, what’s gotten you looking so… happy?” his voice increased slightly in pitch towards the end, and it struck Hermione that he sounded like he had hardly, or maybe <em> never, </em> seen his mother look truly… one hundred percent <em> happy </em>before. She repressed the frown that wanted to express itself.</p>
<p>Narcissa blinked slowly at her son, then glanced over to Hermione before looking back to Draco. Clearing her throat, she opened her mouth a couple of times, seemingly working through her words. After taking a look at Andy, she finally said, “I am going to officially start the divorce proceedings between myself and your father next week at the Ministry. I apologise if this… hurts you, Draco. That is not my intention.”</p>
<p>Draco’s features shifted from slight shock to wonderment and resolute acceptance, complete with a smile Hermione hadn’t seen from the wizard ever before. “It- it doesn’t hurt me, Mother. Father, well… he’s not deserving of you. From what I’ve... come to understand, he hasn’t been for quite some time now. Doesn’t mean he’s not my father anymore, just...” he paused, flicking his gaze to Hermione, and damn it, she should have excused herself for such a private family moment! She started to move away, maybe go check on Teddy again, when Draco reached out and lightly took hold of her robe sleeve. Her eyes grew wide.</p>
<p>“No, it’s… all right, Grang-... Hermione. You can stay,” he said quietly, as if the words felt foreign falling out of his mouth by the way he looked. “You’ve been around Mother enough now that I have no doubt she… probably likens you to a friend of the family.” He turned his attention back to his mother. “I only wish for you to find happiness, Mother. If this… helps you along that path, you don’t <em> need </em>my blessing, but you have it regardless.”</p>
<p>Narcissa looked close to tears as she went to her son and hugged him so tightly it was a wonder he wasn’t fit to snap like a twig. Hermione heard the woman call him “my dragon,” which, well, she knew what <em> Draco </em> meant, so that made sense, and it was really rather sweet of a pet name. The way his eyes flitted over towards her in a glare put it into her that she should <em> never </em> mention it to anyone she knew. Definitely not to Harry or <em> any </em>Weasley. So that was secret number two about Draco Malfoy to keep. She idly wondered how many more she might happen to procure in time.</p>
<p>During all this, Andy had excused herself to check on her daughter, and after another moment or two, Hermione silently removed herself from the room as well and slowly made her way up to where she hoped Teddy was still sleeping, wincing as she rested a foot on a creaky step, but thankfully it didn’t wake the baby sleeping in his cot. Resting her crossed arms on one of the cot’s side banisters and seeing that the young boy was still asleep, she lightly tapped her wand against the magical creatures’ mobile and listened as a soft melody- some Wizarding lullaby, she presumed, as she couldn’t place it- poured forth from the object while it slowly spun in circles above Teddy.</p>
<p>Narcissa was getting <em> divorced</em>. And she was taking the <em> initiative</em>. A cacophony of thoughts flurried through her mind, but the main one she kept coming back to was <em> she deserves better than him. </em>And soon she’d finally have the freedom to pursue whomever she wanted, wizard or witch. Something tugged on her heart, something that she didn’t want to let herself dwell on, because Narcissa wouldn’t... She was happy for her, and she simply hoped that if she wanted, that in time she’d find someone who would truly cherish her for the rest of her life.</p>
<p>As she watched Teddy, thinking about how the Hippogriff on the mobile looked uncannily like Buckbeak, her ears perked up at the sound of soft footfalls coming up the stairwell. She didn’t turn around as they grew closer, absentmindedly wondering if it was Draco coming to make her <em> promise </em>not to speak of his mum’s pet name for him, but was startled out of her thoughts as a pair of slender and oh so soft hands slid over her eyes, enveloping her in semi-darkness.</p>
<p>“Guess who,” a velvety feminine voice whispered next to the shell of her ear.</p>
<p><em> Oh, </em> hell. Hermione bit down on her lip as heat washed over her, pooling at the apex of her thighs. This was a highly, <em> highly </em> inappropriate reaction to have in front of a baby’s <em> cot! </em> She reached up and placed her hands over Narcissa’s, but the older witch only applied more pressure in response- not painful, but sternly saying <em> you have to say my name first. </em></p>
<p>Well, two could play this game. Hermione grinned and cheekily suggested, “Andy?”</p>
<p>Narcissa tugged her towards her body, and Hermione distinctly felt breasts pressing up against her back. Swallowing thickly, she cleared her throat and licked her lips, not giving in yet, because… well, she wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe she didn’t want to lose the sudden close contact. Maybe she wanted to hear Narcissa’s voice up against her ear again. Maybe she-</p>
<p>“Wrong, I don’t have a daughter,” Narcissa’s voice came again, somehow harsher in its delivery even though it was delivered in a quieter whisper. If this was how Narcissa acted at knowing she was going to <em> start </em> her own divorce proceedings soon, <em> Merlin</em>, she wasn’t sure she’d live through the witch finalising the divorce itself. The other woman was already acting like a massive weight had been lifted off her back with the way she was acting like she was on some sort of high. Hermione fidgeted in Narcissa’s grip, still mostly covering her eyes. She chewed on the inside of her cheek and hummed before finally admitting, “Narcissa?”</p>
<p>The hands flew away from her face and swiftly turned her around on the spot- she hardly got a good look at the other witch’s face before she was pulled into a tight hug that probably rivaled the one she’d given Draco, it felt so bloody <em> snug</em>. She wasn’t complaining, though, only appreciating the feel of Narcissa flush against her, the faint smell of lavender coming off the other witch’s body, and the hand fondly stroking her back.</p>
<p>“My son told me you accepted his apology, truly did accept the role at the BSRA, <em> and </em> he called you <em> Hermione</em>,” Narcissa said softly, her breath warm against Hermione’s neck. Voice slightly wavering, she continued, “Whether you realise it or not, you’ve helped him so much already, again without asking for anything in return.”</p>
<p>Hermione thought back to how Draco had addressed even his mates at school by their last names, which she had at first thought was due to his upper-class upbringing, but soon found out that it was more so to point out their status as pure-bloods. They weren’t <em> individuals</em>, they were <em> products </em> of a long line of members of their pure-blood Houses. Malfoy, of House Malfoy; Goyle, of House Goyle; Crabbe, of House Crabbe, and so on and so forth. It’d been in the <em> delivery </em>of those surnames as well. After all, he’d called her Granger with as much disdain in his voice as he could muster during the majority of their school years, as if uttering her Muggle surname was akin to having to lick the mud off the ground beneath his feet.</p>
<p>To go from that sort of delivery, to a begrudgingly placating “Granger,” to a warmer intonation of her surname, and finally to her given name… well, the man was changing, but she couldn’t take credit for it. “It’s through no help of my own, Narcissa- he’s making his own decisions, you know? And you started him on this path.”</p>
<p>“Oh, but have I found the brightest witch of her age <em> miscalculating </em> something?” Narcissa teased, drawing back to tap a finger against the tip of Hermione’s nose. Oh Merlin, was the blonde witch absolutely <em> stunning</em>, and her cheeks were tinged pink, those blue eyes dancing with revelry. Narcissa smirked and said, “You’ve inadvertently performed some magic- to use the Muggle saying- on my son, whether you realise it or not. It may not have <em> only </em>been you, I will admit your friends have had something of an impact on him as well, especially Mr. Potter, but you, darling? You played a part, and for that I am thankful.”</p>
<p>She was brought into Narcissa’s embrace again, and dear Godric, she could just stay here forever and that’d be nice. Perfectly lovely. This time she wrapped her own arms around the other witch, ducking her face to rest in the crook of Narcissa’s neck, breathing in her scent. “Draco’s lucky to have you for his mother,” she murmured into the woman’s robes. She felt Narcissa’s chest vibrate with restrained laughter for Teddy’s sake.</p>
<p>Narcissa pulled away and while brushing her fringe out of her eyes, said, “And I would suppose the same of your mother, Hermione, considering how you’ve turned out. She must be quite the woman.” Her brown eyes widened, memories of her mother and herself coming to the forefront of her mind unbidden, and she barely felt Narcissa’s presence before the woman retreated hastily, apologising for accidentally seeing-</p>
<p>“I don’t mind, Narcissa,” she said, as a tear found its way down her cheek.</p>
<p>“It would be my pleasure to accompany you to Australia when you restore their memories when the time comes, if… if you would like someone to come along,” Narcissa said, though she heard the uncertainty in her voice. “Now I understand if you’d rather Mr. Weasley or-”</p>
<p>“Shush, will you?” Hermione said in a rush of breath, placing her hand over Narcissa’s mouth for a moment before wrapping her arms around the older witch’s neck, drawing her into a hug again. “That’s lovely of you. Oh…” her voice faltered, old suspicions and doubts rising without properly thinking them through, “but you know if you want to go to Australia, you don’t need that sort of reason.”</p>
<p>Narcissa stiffened in her grip. “You think I only wish to come along because of the location, Hermione?” The older witch pulled away from her, studying her intently, a frown forming. “I…” Narcissa trailed off, and oh bloody hell, she’d hurt her. But she didn’t-</p>
<p>“Narcissa, I- they’re <em> Muggles </em>, why would you-” she tried to explain, failing miserably as Narcissa’s face turned crestfallen. Well, shite.</p>
<p>“They’re your <em> parents</em>, Hermione! I haven’t been around too many Muggles before, at least to my knowledge, but… I would be interested in meeting them. After all, they raised the brightest witch of her age, who I’ve, as you well know... come to care about. I do not mean them any harm.” She watched as Narcissa averted her eyes, a hint of a flush appearing on her cheeks, but Hermione still didn’t- she furrowed her brow. She <em> almost </em> still wanted to take slight offense, because it seemed to her that most non-bigoted pure-bloods- even Arthur Weasley- treated Muggles as if they were <em> interesting</em>, like her parents were some fascinating objects best observed in a living museum, but she… Narcissa wasn’t Arthur Weasley. Not at all. And she trusted Narcissa more than that. Didn’t she? She knew she did, but...</p>
<p>But her parents were <em> precious </em> to her, and she didn’t want Narcissa to go into this with the wrong mindset. Not as if Ron would have been any better; he was still a pure-blooded wizard whose father had a troubling view of Muggles, not willing to really dig in and <em> understand </em>them as fellow human beings who simply weren’t born with magic. They more than made up for it in some ways with the sciences and mathematics and technology.</p>
<p>“I… all right,” she relented as her lips tugged upwards into a small smile, “I'm just- I'm protective of them, that's all. But before we go, I’m <em> definitely </em> showing you the Muggle side of Britain. You’re not going in <em> completely </em> blind with my parents. Otherwise you might almost be as bad as Arthur Weasley with his misguided fascinations.” She huffed and rubbed at her face with her hands. “He’s insufferable, asking Harry and I what the <em> function </em> of a <em> rubber duck </em>is. At least my dad had the foresight to read what he could about the Wizarding world before going to Diagon Alley with me and mum.”</p>
<p>Narcissa leaned against the wall behind her, eyebrows raised. “And what of your mother?”</p>
<p>“Like mother, like daughter is all I’ll say to that,” she said with a smirk, then finished with a softer, “By the way... I, as you also well know-” she swallowed down another sentiment that threatened to spill from her lips, “I care for you, too, Narcissa.”</p>
<p>She would never tire of Narcissa’s hugs, that was for certain.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was tempting the fates, surely.</p>
<p>But she had already lost the vast majority of her... friends from before the war ended. Once it came out that it was <em> she </em>who had directly lied to the Dark Lord’s face in that forest clearing, preventing him from truly killing Harry Potter right then and there, securing his victory… well, the old crowd of Death Eater wives were not prone to putting down the welcome mat for her anymore.</p>
<p>Not that she minded. She had her work, well- unpaid labour, to keep her busy except for the weekends, as well as sorting out what was left of the Malfoy <em> and </em> Black fortunes. And of course the weekly visits to serve as the intermediary between her oldest sister and one Hermione Granger. She wondered, though, if her evenings might someday become less mind-numbingly lonely (beyond her letters to and from Eleonora Zabini and Sophia Nott) and dedicated to work that she simply wished she could <em> finish</em>. Draco had made for himself a new home in a London neighborhood that was partially composed of Muggles, though she had yet to visit, giving her son the space she knew he needed. The house-elves, as they had been raised, were not fit for terribly enriching conversation, so her evenings were mostly made up of reading and tending to the Malfoy gardens as well as the redecoration of the manor. Or visiting Bella, sometimes Andy when her sister had the time.</p>
<p>By going back to her maiden name, she’d no idea if it would truly aid in bringing her back into some good standing with wider Wizarding society, including pure-bloods and half-bloods who hadn’t affiliated themselves with Riddle and the Death Eaters. It would bring some sense of freedom that she hadn’t experienced in ages, and she would at least be able to leave Malfoy Manor to Draco’s care until his father was released from Azkaban. <em> If </em>Lucius let himself live that long.</p>
<p>She thought of the divorce proceedings, that unbinding of marriage vows that had woven themselves into their very beings and blood. They had been the standard vows to support each other, share in finances, produce at least one male heir, and on her side, to remain faithful to Lucius. Of course, <em> he </em> was allowed a total of three mistresses, and at first he had scoffed at the mere idea, because, <em> “you’re the most beautiful witch on Earth, Narcissa, I could never take another- it’s only an old-fashioned Malfoy vow I cannot get my father to revoke,” </em>but it had been a lie. She hadn’t been naïve enough to believe him, but a part of her still wanted to strangle him at the sheer misogyny of those vows. Eventually, she knew all three names, and knew of the two illegitimate children he had sired, sent overseas to Ilvermorny for their schooling with their mothers’ surnames.</p>
<p>It would be literal agony on her side as the initiator, as the <em> wife </em>and <em>instigator</em>, to rip their vows to pieces, because pure-blood marriages weren’t <em> supposed </em>to end in divorce. If Lucius died? The vows would slip away from her being like a thief in the night, as they had for Bella when Rodolphus was killed at the Battle of Hogwarts. She, though- she would only be fit for bed rest for at least a week after, and she was more than grateful that Andy said that she <em>would</em> take off work and have the Weasleys watch Teddy and her daughter in order to help her through the process.</p>
<p><em> “You... don’t have to do this for me,” she’d told her sister as they sat together in Nymphadora’s room while the younger witch slept in her grief for Remus and her father, Edward. “I can certainly hire someone to take care of me discreetly. We haven’t been rendered </em> that <em> destitute, Andy.” Old habits died hard- she </em>wanted<em> Andy there with her, but- </em></p>
<p><em> Andromeda had caught her face between her hands and rested their foreheads together. “</em>No<em>, Cissa, I </em> <b> <em>want </em> </b> <em> to help you through this, if it’s what you truly want. I don’t need money or the promise of favours to take care of my little sister when she needs me.” </em></p>
<p>She didn’t deserve Andy. She truly didn’t.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a id="note1" name="note1"></a><sup>1</sup><a href="https://pottermoreanalysis.tumblr.com/post/69844406548/hufflepuff-vs-slytherin">Hufflepuff and Slytherin</a> similarities.<sup>[<a href="#return1">return to text</a>]</sup></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>narcissa begins the divorce proceedings, hermione confides a bit about ron to narcissa, narcissa finds an important suppressant ingredient, and our two lovely leading witches take in the black manor gardens together.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks again for all your comments, kudos, etc, and shout out to Erin26_94 for beta reading! 💛</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Department for Magical Vows and Contracts was on Level Two of the British Ministry of Magic. A sub-section of the greater DMLE, it kept all records of magical contracts on file and handled all dissolvements of said contracts. The Ministry employees were about as run-of-the-mill as you could get, but Narcissa had managed to find a rather discreet Slytherin witch to take care in handling her divorce proceedings: Gemma Farley, former Prefect, and according to Lucius from years ago, she had almost made Head Girl.</p><p>“Miss Farley, good morning,” Narcissa greeted the young woman at her office door. Gemma invited her in, gesturing to the seat in front of her dark oak desk. Parchments were elegantly arranged in small stacks, and the dark-haired woman levitated a few relevant documents in front of her as Narcissa took a seat, her ears catching the soft sound of the office door shutting and locking behind her.</p><p>Gemma cleared her throat and flourished her wand horizontally, sending the parchments to spread out in front of Narcissa. “Good morning, Mrs. Malfoy. I’ve taken these exact parchments to Mr. Lucius Malfoy, and as you can see, he has provided his signature. He is agreeable to citing the reason for your divorce as ‘irreconcilable differences.’ Are you still amenable to that same reasoning for the Ministry’s official records?”</p><p>Narcissa nodded as she procured a pure black quill from an inner robe pocket.</p><p><em> “You mean to tell me that our entire </em> marriage <em> was a </em> farce<em>?!” Lucius had seethed as she’d visited him on Monday the fourteenth, and she’d absentmindedly wondered if the protruding vein in his forehead was going to burst. She had told the Aurors on guard that they would hear worse from her husband’s cell today, and that she wanted their explicit written and bonded word to take with her afterward that they </em> would <em> have their memories wiped of everything they heard. Thankfully, she had held their written agreements in her robes, and her magic had thrummed in physical confirmation when taking their bonded words. </em></p><p><em> As for her husband… well. He was isolated to half of his cell, and she to the other half. A few hundred Galleons from her Black family inheritance were worth the added wards. She had every intention of leaving here without physical harm to her person. Lucius had yet to ever truly harm her, but Azkaban- despite the lack of Dementors- was clearly doing a wretched number on him on top of the distress plaguing him from winding up on the losing side, a side he swore a Malfoy would never truly find themselves on. Just looking at his state, a part of her wished he </em> would <em> get early release into house arrest. She didn’t </em> hate <em> him, she simply… wasn’t in love with him anymore and hated the decisions he had made. </em></p><p><em> She sighed. “Oh, I </em> was <em> once in love with you, Lucius. Then I cared for you as a companion, a friend, but it was tinged with growing... indifference and indignation? The marriage wasn’t a complete farce, but my beliefs? Yes, they were, even if I still struggled with them at times… though less so as our marriage went on.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “You played your act well, Narcissa,” Lucius spat, his grey eyes piercing hers. “What else have you been keeping from me?” </em>
</p><p><em> Her Occlumency walls had been thoroughly up; nothing could have gotten through to him that weren’t her own verbal admissions. Yet he was a Slytherin, too, and if she had kept such an immense thing from him successfully all these years of marriage? It was only natural for there to be other things hidden, and she wondered if perhaps he’d always suspected </em> more <em> after her blatant lie to Tom Riddle came to light. He was a smart man in many ways. Unfortunately… </em></p><p>
  <em> Steadying herself, knowing she was safe, she found herself revealing something that she had not as of yet so clearly confessed to anyone else. “I have grown close to a Muggle-born.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She blinked slowly as he swore and threw… a mass of pebbles... at the wards? Childish. </em>
</p><p><em> “You’re </em> shagging <em> a mudblood?? Who is he?” her husband demanded. Then, he started muttering to himself, “Should have seen it, blood-traitor just like your disowned sister. Bleeding </em> Blacks <em> .” </em></p><p><em> Her eyes widened as unbidden, </em> completely <em> inappropriate images of Hermione appeared in her mind, from her own imagination. She didn’t want to see that! She- oh, Merlin and Morgana. She rested her face in her hands, only looking back up at Lucius when she’d gathered herself. Glaring at him, she snapped, “‘Growing close’ does </em> not <em> mean I was doing that, Lucius, and you well know I wouldn’t be </em> able <em> to due to our marriage vows! I couldn’t even properly kiss another, you sodding pillock, while you were free to- to ‘sow your wild oats’! You have no room to attack me for it even if I </em> could <em> . But no, I have not made you into a cuckold.” </em></p><p><em> Lucius snarled. “Tell me who this mudblood is who has so clearly </em> captured <em> your heart, dear </em> wife. <em> You know the names of my dalliances, after all. Perhaps I can pay him a visit once I am released.” His sickening sneer nearly made her shudder. </em></p><p><em> “Again, you bloody fool, I am not having </em> relations <em> with a Muggle-born. And they’re not a he. </em> She <em> is a brilliant witch who is more than anything you could ever aspire to be, a force to be reckoned with, stronger than </em> anyone <em> I’ve had the pleasure of meeting, and far too endearing for her own good.” The words had flowed from her like a water spout that she had to force off. She was glaring at Lucius, but affection and pride towards Hermione Granger blossomed in her chest.  </em></p><p><em> “Merlin, it sounds like you’re in </em> love <em> with this mudblood witch,” Lucius drawled, his eyes hardened towards her, lips set in a thin line. She felt her mouth go dry, shutting her eyes- she- she couldn’t be, playful teasing and friendly touches wasn’t falling in love, was it? Hermione had her Ronald Weasley, and she deserved someone who was decidedly always on the side of the Light, of the Good, not someone so tainted as she. And not someone twenty years her senior at that, even if the age gap wasn’t </em> that <em> unheard of in their rather small Wizarding society, at least compared to the overwhelming number of Muggles in Britain. </em></p><p><em> She wanted to grind her teeth and, so very unlike herself, almost desired to punch him in the nose without solid reasoning of self-defence. It was a good picture to imagine, at least, as she tapped her foot on the ground and stared her… hopefully soon-to-be ex-husband down. “I owe you no more explanation or defence of my relationship with her. </em> She <em> is not why I wish to divorce you, no, that rests on what you’ve done to yourself and to our family over all these years. What I </em> do <em> need is your signature on the divorce filings, as well as the required vial of your blood for the Ministry proceedings, considering you cannot physically be there for the... ceremony.” The fact that it was called that, officially, made her feel ill. </em></p><p><em> “Fine, I’ll sign the bloody parchments when they arrive and give you the vial,” he groused, pushing fingers back through his scraggly hair. “My father was right- marrying you after seeing what became of your sisters? A wretched mistake of a fool in love. I’ve half a mind to revoke Draco’s inheritance and status as heir of House Malfoy, considering </em> you’re <em> the parent with most access to him, and who </em> knows <em> how much </em> further <em> you’ll influence him without his father there to set him right.” </em></p><p><em> Oh, how she’d had a time of not smiling at the idea of Draco taking on the Black name. If her son wanted to stay a Malfoy, she would do everything in her power to make sure it </em> stayed <em> that way, but... “Do not take your grievances against me out on our son, Lucius. He is proof that at least- at one point, we did love each other.” </em></p><p><em> “He will have to toe the line he’s on, then, and come back to his senses. I would </em> request <em> he visit his dear father at least once a month. The boy can handle </em> that<em>, can’t he?” </em></p><p><em> She really needed to leave. Her magic prickled angrily against her skin, but her voice was as smooth as ever as she said, “Very well. I will pass it along to Draco.” Bound as she was to such a request of their son, he didn’t need an oath to make certain that she did inform Draco of his father’s wishes. In the past, such requests had come in the form of, </em> “Dear, I request that Draco socialise with the Nott’s son more, it would do our… alliance... good. Please schedule some social calls between them,” <em> which both boys had seen through and gone their separate ways, to eventually, </em> “I would request that our son meet his aunt for dueling and Occlumency practise three evenings a week during his summer holidays,” <em> a request she’d no wish to pass on to Draco in 1996, a request that came in the form of a heavy disguisement spell put to letter as Lucius wrote from Azkaban. But she had, and Bella had more time than ever with her Draco, her dragon. A terrible time, because the Bellatrix training her son then was not the same as the Bella who had held him as a newborn, before she’d been carted off to Azkaban. </em></p><p>
  <em> It was only to her fortune that her father had held some sway over the creation of the vows between her and Lucius, or else she… She didn’t like to think about it. </em>
</p><p>And now as she studied the parchments in front of her, the smallest of smiles tugged at her lips. Soon enough she wouldn’t have to think about such vows any longer. She would be free of Malfoy Manor as well, and while she didn’t fancy living with Bellatrix at Black Manor, it would do until she procured the parchment work to properly own another Black property. She could temporarily live in one of them without Bella immediately signing it over or adding her name as an owner, though, if Bella wasn’t up for signing it to her name... or she could purchase an entirely new home somewhere.</p><p>She would soon have that sort of freedom.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Thursday evening came quickly. Narcissa left the topmost buttons of her high-collared blouse undone and was fastening her cloak together when Andy’s Patronus arrived in the manor- a great grey owl. It swooped once around her, then hovered in front of her, tilting its head to the side, regarding her for a moment.</p><p>“Cissy!” Andy’s voice came from the Patronus. “A letter is not enough to officially congratulate you on this. You <em> must </em>visit tomorrow evening for a proper celebratory meal before I’ll need to tend your bedside come next week, if that is still when you plan to properly dissolve the marriage. This is not a request- dinner will be served at six o’clock sharp.” She watched with an open mouth as the owl Patronus disappeared before her eyes.</p><p>It felt again like the start of something she had no control over, yet simultaneously all the control in the world. A dizzying feeling it was, but thoroughly pleasant. She couldn’t stay in the manor any longer, though- she had the visit to attend as intermediary between Bellatrix and Hermione. The younger witch always met her at Black Manor about half an hour after eating dinner at Hogwarts, which she always took at half past six o’clock, and Narcissa always made a point to already be there waiting for the other woman.</p><p>She still didn’t fully trust the Aurors’ wards, even strengthened as they were by the Unspeakable, and that was why she arrived before Hermione. Simply put, she didn’t want to take the risk that her sister could overcome the wards and find Hermione no matter where she went in the manor. It was a precautionary measure on top of a precautionary measure. It was also an excuse to watch the younger witch arrive, a few seconds to take in the other woman without her knowing, because she was too busy righting herself from the Floo trip and vanishing soot from her robes.</p><p>Now that Hermione was back at Hogwarts, she always arrived in the same robes and outfit. Gryffindor red and gold suited the witch perfectly- fiery, stubborn, with a heart of gold that Narcissa counted herself extremely fortunate to witness firsthand. It was this heart of gold that had steadily worked on melting her own composed of ice, and it was this heart of Hermione’s that held Narcissa’s in ways that had it clenching at the sight of the younger witch arriving tonight, her House tie uncharacteristically loosened and the top two buttons of her collared shirt undone. After she’d righted her posture and cleaned her school robes, Narcissa caught Hermione’s eyes and frowned, swiftly standing and closing the distance between them.</p><p>Placing a hand on the younger witch’s shoulder, she asked, “Whatever is the matter, dear?” She felt sorely tempted to capture the brunette’s chin in her fingers and lift her head so they met gazes- not to penetrate her mind, Merlin no, she had respect for the woman’s privacy- but simply because she… she wanted to <em> see </em>her. Hermione mumbled something as she continued to avert her eyes, and Narcissa thought she heard the youngest Weasley boy’s name in it but couldn’t be certain.</p><p>“I’m afraid I didn’t hear you,” she said softly, rubbing her thumb against the black fabric covering Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione shrugged her hand off, which hurt more than Narcissa could have imagined, and the Gryffindor pressed her fingertips against her temples, massaging the skin there. Pointedly ignoring the way Hermione swore under her breath, she waited until the younger witch lifted her head and finally repeated herself.</p><p>“I sent an owl to Ron, suggesting we take a break from each other. We’ve hit, well,” the witch winced, “a bit of a rough patch to say the least- I... but he won’t hear of it.” Hermione shook her head, walking around Narcissa only to unceremoniously drop onto the sofa. Narcissa followed her, taking the seat next to the other woman. Not prodding, but waiting. There was certainly more to this story. “We went to this place with Harry and Ginny in Hogsmeade, Bowtruckle’s- I suppose you’ve heard of it?”</p><p>Oh dear. Narcissa kept her face smooth, unaffected, but curtly nodded. She could only imagine… but she had no time to dwell on it, for Hermione went full-speed ahead, saying, “It- it didn’t go well, after we ate. I couldn’t… He’s arranged early time off from his job and is insisting we spend time together, ‘just the two of us,’ on my <em> birthday weekend</em>,” Hermione almost appeared as if she was becoming a bit short of breath, “t-to figure things out, and- and he’s being stubborn, he doesn’t understand a thing, and I don’t want to break his heart, he’s gone through too much-”</p><p>Narcissa took hold of the younger witch’s hands, somehow silencing her with the gentle pressure she applied, meant to comfort and draw her back from what had looked like an impending panic attack- especially from the way her hands were trembling on top of the clear shortness of breath. “Dear, my d-” she said, swallowing down further words of endearment that threatened to spill out of her, now that <em> Lucius </em> of all people had made her see that- that yes, she truly, honestly <em> was </em> feeling more than she should for Hermione Granger. It wasn’t as she had tried to delude herself, the care of one friend towards another- it was that and <em> more</em>. But... it wasn’t her place to impede a relationship that Hermione was already in, wasn’t hers, but if it was <em> Hermione’s </em> choice, she could give a bit of friendly advice. She cleared her throat. “You’ve <em> all </em>been through too much. It is not a valid reason to withhold whatever it is that you are feeling from him, to spare his feelings. If you spare him, you choke yourself.”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes widened before her, and she caught the slight motion of the other woman swallowing, her breaths now calming, and those brown eyes roaming over her face while Narcissa continued to rub soothing circles into the woman’s hands. She’d half a mind to break the moment and dryly ask if she’d something in her teeth again, but Hermione only wet her lips and nodded, saying, “You’re… you’re right, Narcissa. Funny that the Slytherin is trying to instill bravery in the Gryffindor, hm?”</p><p>Oh, and Hermione Granger’s <em> smile</em>, it lit up the entire room. Narcissa’s chest swelled with some great emotion, but she was drawn back to something else the other woman had said. “You mentioned your birthday weekend? Is it coming up soon?” She was infinitely curious.</p><p>“Mhmm, it’s on the nineteenth, this Saturday. I’ll be nineteen, well… kind of?” Hermione half-grimaced and chewed on her lip.</p><p>Narcissa blinked a few times and frowned. “Whatever do you mean by that?”</p><p>She watched as Hermione brushed her fringe to the side and blushed. Now in what blasted world was that even allowed, for the witch was far too attractive <em> without </em>that, and now- Merlin, Gryffindors were in no way subtle in their attempts to fluster her, were they? Even all these years down the line. She was a Slytherin, though, and her face remained unaffected.</p><p>“Er, in my third year, I wanted to take all classes possible, there was simply so much to learn!” Hermione’s eyes brightened for a moment, but then she glanced down at her lap, where Narcissa was still absentmindedly touching her. She almost pulled away, but that would be too damning, at least in her mind. “I asked Professor McGonagall,” Hermione looked back at her, “if that was possible, and she… gave me a Time-Turner. I know, I know,” she said, as Narcissa couldn’t keep her eyes from widening, “it was dangerous, but I got through the entire year using it without too much trouble, and even helped save a Hippogriff’s life with Harry, as well as Sirius Black from the Dementor’s Kiss-”</p><p>“You <em> what</em>?” Narcissa’s jaw slackened, but she quickly snapped it shut. Just what in the <em> world</em>, for a third-year witch to… oh, Morgana, she needed answers. She hardly noticed the way she was gripping Hermione’s hand tighter until Hermione made a pained noise and she swiftly apologised, releasing her hold. “I merely- that is so much for a young witch to…”</p><p>Hermione shrugged. “Came with the territory of having Harry Potter as one of your best mates. But yes, we saved your cousin with the aid of the Time-Turner. I can tell you, or write to you more about it later? As for my age, though, I used it enough that I’m actually… already nineteen, heading close to twenty at either the end of this year or early next. I’d have to check in with the Ministry to be absolutely certain.”</p><p>“You aren’t already certain?” Narcissa simply had to inquire out of sheer curiosity. She knew Hermione had a near insatiable thirst for knowledge, so why…?</p><p>“No, because… well, September 19th is still my birthday, even if the Time-Turner aged me somewhat. I don’t want to be seen as looking for <em> another</em>… age… day?” Hermione giggled suddenly and covered her mouth with her hand, eyes squeezed shut for a few moments. “I’m not exactly sure <em> what </em> you would call it, but… I don’t wish to detract from… my <em> actual </em>birthday. If my friends knew…. Well, except for you, now, they would either see it as an excuse to throw another celebration or think I’m… seeking attention, somehow… probably. Which I’m not, I-”</p><p>Narcissa reached for Hermione’s arm, gently grasping her bicep. “I know you aren’t, Hermione. And I won’t tell anyone. But as for your ‘actual’ birthday, please tell me that you have other plans than what Mr. Weasley wants to do?”</p><p>“Well… Ginny and Luna are dragging me out to some place in London on the evening of the nineteenth after some other surprise during the day,” she said. “Ron and Harry are coming along in the evening. Ginny swears I’ll have the time of my life, but I doubt any of them would take me to a <em> library </em>for my birthday night. My bet is that it’s some Wizarding club.”</p><p>Narcissa pursed her lips. “There are a few of those in London, some more risque than the others. Did they mention a name?” Hermione shook her head- well, it was worth an attempt, at least. She patted the witch’s arm and helped her to her feet, suggesting they make their way to Bella swiftly, “because if anything is impeccable for Bella, it is her sense of time and keeping to scheduled appointments.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Watching Hermione and Bella interact together was always fraught with a sense of tension that seeped into Narcissa’s bones. She was getting closer to creating a valid, safe, and most importantly- <em> non-lethal </em>suppressant for the two witches, and Minerva continued to aid her in her limited spare time, but what was helping more than ever now was Andromeda’s contributions. She had not told Hermione about the developments, simply because she didn’t want to provide any premature hope.</p><p>But they were closer, and she knew that they were simply <em> one </em> step away, <em> one </em> missing puzzle piece, from creating a proper suppressant. She’d done all she knew of besides gathering the physical manifestation of the bond. It was only as she returned to the room that she had left Bella and Hermione in, that she <em> finally </em> caught it within her fingertips. The two other women had fallen asleep in the fifty minutes since she had left them after casting her own additional protective wards, though she had never strayed far from the two witches after what had happened last time. Narcissa had seen Hermione’s fatigue clearly, despite the younger witch casting it off as simple weariness over the Weasley boy.</p><p>And Bella had informed her earlier in the week that the nightmares had come back stronger than before, nightmares from every single period of her life, though surprisingly her eldest sister had admitted that the ones from Azkaban were <em> almost </em> nothing compared to the ones from their childhood. Hermione… well, she <em> was </em> certainly weary from the Weasley boy, but Narcissa knew well enough that the young woman also had her own share of nightmares, and she had heard from Merula Snyde how drained Hermione’s first Occlumency lesson had left her.</p><p><em> “Despite how weary it left Miss Granger… she is certainly the talented witch,” the younger Slytherin had said as they took tea in Merula’s quarters at Hogwarts. “She would have made a fine Ravenclaw, the way her mind gets insanely focused on theory versus practical applications. She struggled quite a bit, but her sheer determination made for... </em> some <em> tangible results by the end of the first lesson. But, oh Merlin, that girl’s </em> thoughts <em> .”  </em></p><p>
  <em> Narcissa had raised her hand, pursing her lips. “Do not engage me, Merula, please. I have done my utmost to tune her out and have succeeded for the most part. And after all, you cannot speak of her thoughts outside of that room, nor to anyone but the woman herself.” Violet eyes had only glimmered mischievously at her and shrugged. </em>
</p><p><em> “Your loss, Narcissa. But I will say one thing: the girl is </em> fond <em> of you.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Well, that was vague enough to escape the warded confines of Professor Snyde’s office, apparently, though she didn’t miss the certain emphasis Merula put on the word ‘fond.’ </em>
</p><p>Shaking her head of such thoughts, Narcissa cast <em> muffliato </em> on herself so as to not accidentally wake either woman and went to her sister first, carefully eyeing the golden motes surrounding Bella’s black strands of hair. She glanced over to the seat Hermione was sleeping uncomfortably in, verifying the same motes surrounding her head of somewhat tamed bushy hair. She would need to conduct additional tests and experiments on the substances, but on first glance along with a simple diagnostic from her wand, they were physical manifestations of the blood bond as the two witches slept. As she had confided in her sisters and Minerva, one of the Black family grimoires had mentioned such things, but not the exact nature of such physical manifestations. She <em> had </em> watched over Hermione once before while she was asleep and <em> hadn’t </em>seen these motes, though, so wondered if they only appeared during certain circumstances or after a specific period of time, like she had told Bella and Andy.</p><p>To answer those questions and more, she pulled out two vials from her cloak pockets and gently tapped several of Bella’s golden motes into one vial, then ventured beside Hermione to collect the same amount from around and within her brunette locks into the other. With a flourish of her wand and a whispered tagging spell, the witches’ names appeared on their respective vials, and after putting a charmed cork in each, she stored them back inside of a cloak pocket. At the small clinking noise of the two settling in her pocket, she heard a slight groan from Hermione.</p><p>The woman’s eyes blinked open slowly as Narcissa turned on the spot to look at her. Her heart rate increased, the thrum of it coursing along to her core, shocking her into stillness- Hermione smiled lazily up at her and stretched, then seemed to catch wind of a crick in her neck and winced.</p><p>“Shite…” the whispered hiss came, and as the younger woman reached up to her neck again to massage it, Narcissa crouched down, placing a hand around Hermione’s, removing it from the spot on her neck to replace it with her own hand, placing the tip of her wand to the back of it, channeling her healing magic through, much stronger than if she used wandless magic. She <em> could </em>have simply poked the end of her wand against Hermione’s neck, but that was clinical, uncaring, and cold. It was not because she wanted to touch the other woman.</p><p>However, the soft moan that came from Hermione’s lips as her healing took effect did things to her that she hadn’t properly nor so strongly felt in so long that it had become hardly even a memory. She had felt strong twinges of it when it came to certain things the younger witch did or said- such was the case during that accident at Grimmauld Place, but never so fiercely until now, and yet again she could imagine another version of herself punching Lucius straight in the face for being the one who brought the realisation to irrevocable full light. With Andy, it had felt more like something she could file away as simple sisterly teasing, but <em> Lucius</em>? That wasn’t an option.</p><p>She honestly <em> fancied </em> Hermione Granger, and the noise the woman had made just then was doing Narcissa no favours in backtracking on those feelings at all- she viscerally felt a shot of heat course down her spine and through her core. Softly biting down on her own lip did the trick of refocusing as she channeled a small amount more of her magic through her hand and through Hermione’s skin to ease the ache in her muscles. When she could no longer feel the strain on the brunette’s neck, she removed her hand and tucked her wand back into its sheath, chancing a haphazard look behind them where Bella still slept, though she had turned away from them both.</p><p>“How long was I out for?” Hermione murmured, rubbing at her eyes before sitting up straighter in the seat. Narcissa stood up and, not in the mood to unsheathe her wand again, cast a <em> tempus </em> with a clockwise motion of two fingers and let the younger witch do the math. A soft, glowing <em> 21:45 </em>shone. Hermione nodded and stretched her way out of the chair, mumbling something Narcissa didn’t quite catch.</p><p>Impetuously curious, Narcissa asked in an equally soft tone, “What was that you said?”</p><p>Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and heaved an annoyed sigh, casting her eyes towards her. “It shouldn’t have been this easy to fall asleep around <em> her</em>.” One of her arms gestured towards Bellatrix, and- yes, if Bella hadn’t also fallen asleep, Narcissa… would not allow herself to ruminate on it. It did give her the idea for a new ward to put into place next time, something she had also placed between her and Lucius. That was, unless- and she would add this into her tests on the motes- if one fell asleep in close quarters to the other, would they both surrender to rest?</p><p>“You appear uninjured- do you know what led to this? Falling asleep along with my sister?” Genuinely interested and concerned, she prayed to each founder and every god and goddess she could think of that Bellatrix had fallen asleep first, or that they had at least fallen asleep at the same time.</p><p>Tipping back and forth on the balls of her feet, Hermione took a moment, brow creasing, then answered, “Honestly? We were going at it about the nightmares, and she was blaming <em>me </em>for making them worse somehow, but they were getting <em>better</em>. Then she got angry at herself and, well, punched through a window, which she then fixed with a <em>reparo</em>, then I had to try and give it a go at healing her, though my efforts are slipshod compared to what you can do. Only grateful that her injuries don’t mirror on my own body, even if I can feel them…</p><p>“After that,” Hermione said, an index finger laid against the corner of her mouth, eyes on Bella’s sleeping form, “she laid down there, and I sat down on the chair you found me in. We were both worn out. I figure we fell asleep around the same time. I would’ve woken if she tried anything.”</p><p>“I didn’t <em> try </em> anything,” the half-muffled voice of her sister came from the bed. “Too sodding tired to give a shit. Now can you both shut the fuck up so a witch can <em> sleep</em>?” Bella groaned and promptly pulled the second pillow on the bed over her head.</p><p>Narcissa walked over to the side her sister was facing and tapped her on the shoulder, narrowly avoiding the arm that snapped out to grab hold of her cloak. Clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth in disapproval, Narcissa restrained herself from casting a <em> lumos maxima </em>right in Bella’s face. She did take a Dreamless Sleep potion from a shrunken chest within her robes and, after resizing it to its natural state as well as removing the stasis spell, set it on the bedside table.</p><p>“Take that, then go back to sleep. I will give one to Miss Granger as well so <em> both </em>of you can sleep decently tonight. If you require more, you can take up to three a week for one month without risk of addiction.”</p><p>“Yes, <em> Mother</em>,” Bella groaned, pushing herself up just enough to grab hold of the potion and down it all in one large gulp. “At least this one doesn’t taste as horseshit as others.”</p><p>“Language, Bellatrix.”</p><p>Bella shot her a glare and a damning and oh-so-<em> knowing </em> smirk. “You don’t actually care about that, or else you’d have told me off for saying <em> fuck </em>earlier, Cissy.”</p><p>With a roll of her eyes and an obscene hand gesture that Bellatrix merely grinned at, she left her sister’s bedside and motioned for Hermione to follow her out of the bedroom, only turning back once to put out the candlelight in the room before something tipped over and set the place on fire. That was something she was <em> not </em>up to dealing with, even if magic made it relatively easy to correct if caught early.</p><p>Once they were out of range of her older sister’s physical reach and hearing, Narcissa found some nearby chairs, separated in the middle by a table and small candelabra, sitting herself in one and watching as Hermione stared at the other for a moment before shrugging and joining her. Reaching up and rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palm, Narcissa sighed, and while watching Hermione through the cracks between her fingers, said, “If you are not as tired as Bella, we do not have to leave right now- we can go to the library, or visit the gardens- if it will help to continue to placate the bond for another week.”</p><p>“The gardens sound lovely, Narcissa,” Hermione said, and Narcissa removed her hands from her face, watching the other woman intently. “I’ll be close enough to still feel the threads of this wretched thing calming. The longer I stay near to her, the longer afterward it doesn’t bother me at all. At worst, by Wednesdays it’s like an unpleasant tingling sensation that nags a bit, but I’ve grown used to it. Nothing harmful so far, just… uncomfortable.”</p><p>Narcissa nodded and got to her feet again, her hand starting to reach out for Hermione’s before she realised what she was doing and drew it back to her side. She cleared her throat and led the way down to the first floor, only pausing when Hermione quietly asked her where the toilets were, as she’d only visited two of the ones located on the second floor. She walked the younger witch to the closest one, and while waiting for her, made a mental note to check in with her other sister about any progress she may have made on further help for Hermione’s <em> Cruciatus</em>-inflicted injury.</p><p>It was still difficult to imagine the loss of sensation and control that Hermione had. She was only fortunate that even <em>if </em>Bellatrix had experienced flashes of the condition, she hadn’t placed it for what it was and therefore hadn’t brought it up. It wasn’t as if the bond showed concrete specifics, merely the main emotions and some kind of general sensation, which is why… Merlin, her cheeks flushed- why Hermione’s relations with Ronald had likely gone through a quick process of elimination that left her sister with <em>exactly </em>what was causing them. After all, the emotions and general sensations associated with sexual relations were rather specific to the act itself. As for Hermione’s condition- she would never bring it up even tangentially to her sister, but based on what she had gleaned so far from the Black tome and the women’s experiences with the bond, she could only assume that Bella had only drawn general emotions such as embarrassment, shame, and a loss of control. Those, even together, wouldn’t explicitly scream out the specifics.</p><p>She only hoped that it would stay that way and her sister would never become the wiser. Narcissa shuddered to think how Bellatrix would think to use that knowledge against Hermione. Despite the existence of a standard bed-wetting prevention potion, because enough children and teenage mages had the problem, Bella would likely find a way to make a mockery of the <em> “Golden Girl” </em>for something <em> she’d </em>inflicted upon her. She had already complained about the blood bond as if Hermione was the one who had created it.</p><p>
  <em> “You’ve never taken responsibility for your actions, Bella.” </em>
</p><p><em> “Never?” Bella had growled out. “NEVER? Bollocks, Cissy, have you </em> forgotten <em> how I took responsibility for yours </em> and <em> that blood-traitor’s actions when we were </em> children, <em> on top of my </em> own<em>? Mother had eyes </em> everywhere<em>.” </em></p><p>Eyes everywhere that Narcissa had not inherited beyond watching her son, because the simple tap of a finger against her shoulder sent her jumping like a caught criminal. Hand over her heart, Narcissa turned to see Hermione laughing at the scene and folded her arms across her chest, successfully reining in an impulse to huff. </p><p>“Knut for your thoughts?” Hermione asked, her laughter dying down.</p><p>“I was…” Narcissa sighed, turning about to lead the way out to the gardens at the rear of Black Manor, “simply remembering how utterly difficult Bella has always been.” A puff of air exhaled from the corner of her lips as she restrained the full truth. Thankfully, Hermione didn’t prod her for more information, merely staying close to her side until they reached one of the French doors that opened to the back gardens. She went ahead of her, unlocking the doors with her wand and opening them together with another flourish from her wand hand, gesturing for Hermione to go through first. The younger witch’s gasp was expected, but it wasn’t for any of the old beauty that used to characterise the gardens. Rather, it was an expression at taking in the still dismal conditions.</p><p>The interior and front of the manor were taken care of, but the rear that went on for a few kilometers had only the bare minimum of caretaking. They simply didn’t have enough house-elves to keep <em> everything </em> up to pristine standard- several had passed since their father’s death six years prior, either from an ancient age or sheer neglect. After all, a house-elf couldn’t call for Healers for themselves without their master or mistress’s express permission. It was terribly unfortunate, and something Hermione expressed vehement disgust with as Narcissa explained.</p><p>“Did you do <em> nothing </em> for them?” the other woman asked, her tone accusing. Narcissa levelled a hard stare at her, as amazed as she was infuriated at how such high emotions had rendered Hermione apparently incapable of reading between the lines like the intelligent Gryffindor she <em> knew </em>the witch to be.</p><p>“I <em> couldn’t </em>do anything for them, because the manor fell into Bella’s ownership despite her confinement to Azkaban, and without her here to alter the wards, I could not cross them to do anything for the house-elves, as I am still a Malfoy, not a Black.” She harshly ran her fingers through her hair and started walking down one of the garden pathways, absentmindedly fixing misplaced and shattered cobblestones with her wand.</p><p>Hermione caught up, falling into step beside her. “Another failing of the Ministry I hope to rectify once at the level where I can do something about it. I apologise, Narcissa.” She waved a dismissive hand, wordlessly accepting. “But that reminds me… if I’m not overstepping, how are the divorce proceedings coming along?”</p><p>Oh, they were going to address that subject, were they? Inviting Hermione to take a seat on a bench with her- once she had cast a few spells to clean and fix the splinters in the wood- Narcissa updated her on the matter. “It will be finalised by the end of next week. If I, for some reason, cannot be here for the next visit, I have arranged for Molly Weasley to accompany you. Minerva would, but-”</p><p>“She’s Headmistress,” Hermione finished for her. “I understand. I only hope that Mrs. Weasley doesn’t feel…” she trailed off.</p><p>“Doesn’t feel what?” Narcissa glanced at the other witch through the corner of her eye. She was chewing on her lower lip, jaw tight. With a shake of her head, Hermione stood up and walked towards a patch of long dead flowers in one of the raised stone garden beds. Narcissa admired the gentle way the witch lifted the wilted stems, taking her wand in her left hand as she cast root severing spells before tugging the remains out of the dirt with her bare hands.</p><p>Her voice carried over the short distance back to her. “This entire ordeal should have stayed between Bellatrix and me; I… I wouldn’t hurt her unless it was in self-defence at this point. You shouldn’t have to be here, nor should Mrs. Weasley be encumbered by it.” </p><p><em> Salazar</em>, why was this woman so bloody difficult? Narcissa knelt besides Hermione and stilled her slightly trembling hand as she started to work on another clump of dead flowers. She’d never been one to touch the plants or dirt without wearing any sort of gloves, and honestly, Hermione shouldn’t be either- if she remembered correctly, there were some dangerous plants and flowers within the Black gardens. Hermione turned to look at her, obviously about to apologise for getting dirt on <em> her </em> hands, as if it hadn’t been her <em> choice </em>to touch the younger witch in the first place.</p><p>“Don’t apologise,” Narcissa said, cutting the woman’s words off before they began. She pulled Hermione’s hand between her own and squeezed, trying to be as physically reassuring as she hoped she would be with her words. “You said it yourself earlier- self-reliance is good, <em> in moderation</em>. I am <em> not </em> encumbered by this, nor will Mrs. Weasley be- she agreed of her own free will because she <em> cares </em> about you, darling. And despite the reparations, it was always my own <em> choice </em> after the first few visits to come with you each week to see my sister. By then I had sufficiently proved myself to Minerva and the Minister... I <em> could </em> have sent my Patronus in my place and watched through its eyes.”</p><p>“You can look through the eyes of your Patronus?” Hermione stared at her like she’d grown a second head. Narcissa had heard of the failings of the shoddy Defence curriculum at Hogwarts from Draco, but she- oh. Hermione hadn’t attended her seventh year, was actually attending it <em>now </em>in the form of a temporary eighth year designation. She would have to write Professor Snyde about including Patronuses into her curriculum for the seventh and eighth year combined class.</p><p>“You can, though there are caveats,” she informed. “As a Patronus is a form of Light magic, your intent matters- you cannot see through its eyes if your intentions are Dark. It is easiest if your intent is to protect someone or something.”</p><p>Hermione nodded, removing her hand and tugging out her wand. She watched as the younger witch cast her own Patronus- an otter, which Narcissa found oddly adorable- and asked her if there was anything she needed to say to it in order to see through its eyes.</p><p>“Channel your intentions through your magic and into it. You don’t even need to say anything aloud, but you will need to keep your own eyes shut until you master the practice,” she said. The younger witch stuck her tongue out between her lips a bit, concentrating solely on the form of her otter until it flew off, diving through the walls of the manor. Narcissa turned to sit on the smooth stone that surrounded the patch of garden, taking this rare chance to openly study Hermione’s features.</p><p>She hadn’t had an opportunity like this before, and she found herself holding her breath for a few moments as her eyes roamed over the younger witch’s features. There were delicate freckles scattered across Hermione’s cheeks and nose, like faint stardust underneath her long lashes. Her fringe covered most of her forehead, but her warm brown eyebrows were near completely visible as they were furrowed in concentration. And though her lips were slightly cracked with the chill in the air, she… Narcissa shook her head slightly, casting her wandering eyes to the other witch’s somewhat tamed yet still slightly bushy hair. But looking at it only served to stoke a desire to run her fingers through it, caress it, and- she repressed a groan that nearly escaped her and squeezed her thighs together for a moment.</p><p>It was fortunate that this was the moment Hermione returned to herself, turning to beam up at her with chocolate brown eyes as she re-situated herself so she sat beside Narcissa, their thighs touching. </p><p>“That was amazing! Also, your sister is still fast asleep. You’re right that intent matters- once I started entertaining the idea of scaring her awake, I was shot back from the Patronus. Buggery little things they are, but superbly useful.” Hermione paused, then in a much softer voice asked, “May I see yours?”</p><p>She couldn’t remember the last time she had properly called for her Patronus, but she had asked so plainly… well, at least it would certainly get her mind on something else. Wordlessly, Narcissa withdrew her wand from its sheath and tried to use an old memory of Draco as she said the incantation for the spell. A non-corporeal Patronus emerged for a few seconds, but quickly faded. Flushing, she tried again- only to yield the same results. Sighing and allowing her eyelids to flutter shut, she gripped the handle of her wand tighter.</p><p>“It’s all right if you-”</p><p>“I <em> can</em>, I simply… It has been quite some time. There was no need to when...” The admission was delivered much like a confession. She hadn’t had use for a Patronus for so long, she wondered if the same animal would even come forth from her wand. She had heard of the silvery representations of animals changing, knew that Death Eaters had lost access to theirs once they took the Dark Mark (if they had even cast one before), and perhaps… perhaps fear was getting in the way of even her fondest memories of her son. And no matter what she tried to fool herself with, the thought of it broke her heart. It was as if her best memories of her son were now tainted by what she had allowed to happen to him. Allowed him to take the Dark Mark and risk his life for a cause she had never truly believed in.</p><p>At the light touch of Hermione’s fingers on her right wrist, she loosened her grip on her wand, lifting her gaze to settle on Hermione’s. The younger witch smiled at her and said they could have a go at it again later, that it was great she could get a non-corporeal going after not casting the spell in Merlin knows how long, and offered the same hand that had been on her wrist to her after she stood up. Narcissa took the other witch’s hand and fell into an easy walk with her, discussing the first visits Draco had taken with Crabbe and Goyle’s wives.</p><p>“He tells me they’re part of a social society, but they either don’t have a name for it or aren’t comfortable sharing it yet. What is... slightly interesting is how they conducted themselves. You remember their sons, no doubt?”</p><p>Hermione nodded. “They were… not the best of the lot.”</p><p>She chuckled. “Feel free to express yourself candidly, dear.”</p><p>“Okay, they were some of the absolute<em> worst </em>students of our entire year. Complete dunderheads.”</p><p>“Their mothers were not much better during the time I knew them, and they were anomalies due to their crassness that was ill-befitting of pure-blood daughters. Even Bellatrix, before... everything, was the epitome of pure-blood civility. But I digress- Mrs. Crabbe and Goyle conducted themselves in a far better manner than typically expected when Draco stopped by for tea at Goyle Manor a few days ago. What should have been a somewhat terse and heated reunion due to Mrs. Crabbe’s son’s death went much smoother. Instead of anger, they opened their arms to him, expressed interest in his work- namely his reparations work for the BSRA, which was astounding in itself for them to even recognise it, if not for their abhorrence of its existence. They were curious about what Draco was getting out of it, and he has told me that his… <em> subterfuge </em> is going well. Granted, he has only conducted two visits thus far. Not enough to know for certain whether this is something the Ministry should keep pursuing.”</p><p>“Hmm, that…” Hermione said, pursing her lips. “It’s like they’re trying to present themselves in a better light now for other pure-bloods, but have definitely not changed a bit in their ideology. Perhaps they’re looking to raise their station, ingratiate themselves with your son? Were you in touch with them this past year?”</p><p>“Unfortunately, no- I was confined to the manor, and only Death Eaters were allowed entrance into our home, not their wives- barring myself, because I was lady of the manor. Regrettably, I am not sure if they were beginning to alter their conduct and presentation during the last year or if this is something new…” she hesitated, then added, “And before <em> he </em>took control of the manor, I only saw the two during special occasions. If our sons had been true friends, that may have gone differently.”</p><p>“Who did you see outside of special occasions?” Hermione asked, resting her chin against a balled up fist.</p><p>A loaded question. Narcissa rubbed her thumb along the stone beside her. There was the Greengrass girls’ mother, Ophelia, as well as Ms. Parkinson’s mother, Camellia, but their social calls always held the pretext of possibility for betrothal to her son. It was Mr. Nott and Mr. Zabini’s mothers who had held more of her respect. Sophia Nott and Eleonora Zabini’s sons would have made far better friends to Draco, something she always held against Lucius for pushing their son to make lackeys instead of true friends (which had failed in the Nott’s son’s case, their boys seeing through such “social calls”), though Nott’s son was raised with the same ideals of pure-blood supremacy through his father, and Blaise Zabini had followed the crowd, or at least that was what lay in the hints Nora dropped about him over the years they’d known each other.</p><p>“The two I was… and <em> may </em> still have a salvageable relationship with, are Sophia Nott and Eleonora- Nora- Zabini.”</p><p>Hermione gasped. “But- but I heard that, is that Theodore Nott’s mother? I heard she <em> died</em>!” Narcissa looked at Hermione and grinned.</p><p>“Officially, she is dead, yes. But unofficially? She is very much alive and lives in a small Wizarding village in Scotland. Mrs. Zabini and I helped her escape from her absolute pillock of an abusive husband. She and Mrs. Zabini are, hmm, how shall I put it? Together, romantically.”</p><p>“Oh, Morgana, that sounds like… one story I <em> need </em>to know,” but, alas, the woman betrayed herself with a yawn and tired eyes. Narcissa patted Hermione on her thigh, repressing an urge to splay her fingers and caress the younger witch.</p><p>Standing back up, Narcissa assured her, “Another time, and I shall sate your curiosity. For now, <em> you </em>should head back to Hogwarts, and I have business to attend to with Andy at her home tomorrow that I must prepare for. Come now.” She waited for Hermione to stand and stretch, forcing her eyes away from the patch of skin that revealed itself around the younger witch’s midriff. She really should have kept her sweater and button-up shirt tucked in, but to call attention to it wasn’t worth explaining her wandering eyes.</p><p>Hermione surprised her with a hug before she walked into the Floo at the manor. Most, if not all the time, she had instigated such physical contact with the other woman- it was… exhilarating, nay, <em> intoxicating</em>, to suddenly feel the other witch wrap her arms around her waist from behind, Hermione’s body pressing against her back, and her chin resting on her left shoulder. She shivered, which only made Hermione tighten her grasp, and she wasn’t sure if she heard the witch correctly, as she spoke so softly, but-</p><p>“I know I’ll have the pleasure of seeing your Patronus soon. And thank you,” her voice had dipped even lower, “for your continued company. Best wishes on your divorce, Narcissa.”</p><p>She hadn’t even a chance to wish Hermione a happy early birthday before the other witch had let go of her and vanished through the Floo Network. She did, at least, have a settee to collapse on, not bothering with proper sitting decorum as she spread her legs and held one hand to her heart while the other covered her flushed face. She had some time still before heading over to Andromeda’s, thankfully. But knowing what she already did from their younger years<em> and </em> getting to learn new things about her sister now that they were reconciled, it was doubtful she wouldn’t catch on about recent developments. Andy had always been frustratingly perceptive, and it appeared that her late husband, as well as her daughter, had only been bad influences on her filter.</p><p>Regrettable, truly, that Andy saw it on her face the moment they caught eyes as she came out of the Floo-connected fireplace at the Tonks’ household the next evening.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>for those of y'all who may have wanted me to write about the first occlumency lesson w/merula: i am so so <i>so</i> sorry. i *have* written the second lesson in a future chapter that's drafted, though.</p><p>of note, i plan to post the next chapter on saturday instead of thursday due to the holiday season. also, settle in for a few more september chapters! we will get out of this month in the fic by chapter 20/21 though and i'm hoping to move things along faster afterward. at least for a little while...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hermione's 19th birthday: september 19th, 1998.</p><p>(though, technically she's already nineteen and nearer to twenty.)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>trigger warning for non-con elements (bond-influenced sexual assault) within a section of this chapter, and later short nightmare sequences that play off what happened earlier in the chapter mixing with what happened in malfoy manor. the bond inserts itself into these nightmares because it's a fucking terrible thing. <b>said non-con sections/sequences have been marked off with centered horizontal rules for ease of skipping (versus the typical five left-aligned dashes i use).</b></p><p>oh, and uh, a member of my family who lives in the same household as i do tested positive for covid on christmas eve. we're doing what we can to prevent anyone else getting it, but if i get it and it's shitty to me (or if something happens to a family member), this fic will go on the back-burner until things get better. goes to show, though, that you can work from home and plant ur ass at home and still be exposed to it hahahahaa fuck (:</p><p>anyway, just to note, better days *are* coming for hermione in this fic!! i've recently drafted a chapter that i p much can't wait to publish (so long as my beta clears it lol) :-) thanks again for the comments, kudos, and shoutout to Erin26_94 for beta'ing!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>“I’d hoped that this year I would celebrate at least part of my birthday with Mum and Dad,” </em>she’d written in the journal Professor Snyde had given her,<em> “regain some sense of normalcy. But that bloody witch has ruined that notion for another entire year. Though is it really because of her that I haven’t gone to them yet? Or is it...” </em>an excuse? She had left out the last two words, unable to put them to the journal’s bound parchment with her quill. It had at least helped so far to write some in the journal, though- she wagered that part of its helpfulness was whatever healing magic had been imbued into it, though for the life of her she still couldn’t place how they worked exactly, or what the spells were- they didn’t act like the ones she had read of. She wasn’t in need of <em>physical </em>healing spells, and she only knew of healing potions for the mind. She didn’t see how a potion could be used in it, and none of her diagnostic spells had revealed the presence of liquids ever being spilt to soak into the parchment. But it was as if something in the journal was <em>alive</em>, but not in the way she'd heard Ginny and Harry describe Riddle's diary.</p><p>She thought back to her parents, memories of them that she used to treasure only serving to taunt now, and her mind unhelpfully supplied a <em> happy birthday, indeed</em>. On first waking, she overwhelmingly wanted to sleep the day away, burrow deep into the covers and forget everything. Try to fall into pleasant dreams instead of face the day. It wasn’t as if her friends even knew she was already nineteen years old, nearly twenty, thanks to her Time-Turner adventures in third year. The Ministry knew, which was why her trace had come off nearly a year early, but her birth <em> day </em> would always be September 19th, 1979. At least that was immutable even by muddling around with time itself as a fourteen-year-old. And as fixed as her birthday was, equally so was the bullheadedness of one Ginny Weasley, who leapt onto her bed at nine in the morning, splaying her body across Hermione’s. And with that went any conceived idea of locking herself away for the day.</p><p>Groaning, Hermione swatted at Ginny until she found her hands forcibly restrained by the red-head who was stationed above her, smirking with undoubtedly some nefarious plans behind it. “Come on, Hermione, you’re <em> always </em> up before this time on the weekends. Birthday or not, you’re missing breakfast if we don’t get down the Great Hall before ten, and it’s already a bit past nine. <em> I </em> won’t bring you anything, and I know you won’t pester the house-elves to send food up here.” (Well… Winky’s acts of courtesy withstanding, which Ginny did <em> not </em> need to know about right now.)</p><p>Ginny was <em> impossible</em>. And childish by the way she blew a raspberry at her, spit narrowly missing her <em> face</em>. After shoving the younger witch off her and watching as she ran out of her quarters, Hermione yelled, “You’re <em> disgusting, </em>Ginny Weasley!” before turning and hanging her legs off the side of her four-poster. She truly needed to cast a better locking charm on her bedroom door at the top of Gryffindor Tower.</p><p>It was only after enjoying a breakfast that nearly felt like her mum had made it (<em>how </em> Ginny had remembered her most favourite breakfast foods made her realise what a great friend she truly had in the other girl... though it also uncomfortably reminded her of how she <em> hadn’t </em> let herself lean on Ginny) and a whisper in her ear that Ginny and Luna were going to take her to Wizarding Britain’s oldest and most comprehensive library that she reneged on her idea of a more thorough locking charm. She still didn’t enjoy the queasy feeling apparition immediately left her with and preferred Portkeys, but for this library? She happily went through the temporary discomfort and nausea.</p><p>The hidden Wizarding village of Carnmin lay a bit southwest of Stonehenge and the Muggle town of Amesbury. Its enormous library was its centrepiece, nestled directly in the middle of the village. A plaque outside read: <em> Founded in 8924 BC, the Library at Carnmin flourished out of Caiphas Carnmin’s personal library. The whole of the castle- built in 927 AD by Carnmin’s descendant, Chiara, and her friends- is now part of this library. Additional space was built to accommodate the ever-growing collection of writings in 3237 BC, 1499 BC, 189 AD, 677 AD, 1455 AD, 1834 AD, and 1992 AD. </em></p><p>“You’re practically <em>drooling</em>, Hermione,” Ginny squeaked out, poorly attempting to hide her giggling fit behind a hand covering her mouth. Hermione snapped her gaping jaw shut, wiping aggressively at her mouth just in case, and even Luna was chuckling, though her laughter was so quiet she would have missed it if the Ravenclaw wasn’t standing right next to her, her head resting on Hermione’s shoulder.</p><p>She wondered if Luna knew what she was doing to her, but the blonde merrily skipped ahead of them, up the stairs and into one the double doors at the entrance like she hadn’t just- okay, this <em>was</em> her birthday, and maybe Luna <em> did </em> know and was trying to act sweet on her and simply didn’t realise that Hermione wasn’t in the cards for anything more than a committed relationship between two people. Neville was a great bloke and a good friend, but she’d never seen him as anything more than that, even when she thought she was only attracted to wizards.</p><p>Any concerns about Luna Lovegood vanished as she took in the sweeping architecture of the castle library’s foyer: a reception desk wide enough for seven separate lines with several mages bustling about behind the counter, stacks of books flying overhead in more directions than Hermione could keep track of, interactive parchment directories that reminded her somewhat of the Marauder’s Map (one of which hovered in front of her to take as she walked in), and a few reading sections warded for silence as all of the books flapping about didn’t seem to disturb anyone within. She studied the directory in her hand and saw that it allowed visitors to link their locations together along with directions for casting the spell to accomplish it.</p><p>Luna had already disappeared, but she met with Ginny before the younger witch escaped to the Wizarding Sports sector. With wand tip trailing from Ginny’s parchment to her own in a loosely shaped infinity symbol she muttered, “<em>Coniungere locus</em>,” watching on in appreciation as a translucent thread tied their directories together- which had already connected to their own magic by first touch- and then disappeared. Upon looking at where she was on the parchment now, Ginny’s dot glowed as bright silver as her own, superbly easy to find however far apart they might be in the library.</p><p>“I’m sure Luna will find us, or somehow one of the employees will know how to find her,” Ginny reassured her. Hermione hadn’t mentioned the Ravenclaw at all- was she that easy to read? She nodded and waved Ginny off, watching the other woman travel to one of the western wings. Finally alone, she studied the parchment further, eyes noting where the loos were, then skimming the names of sectors until she saw a few that she simply <em> had </em> to see today: Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Wizarding Wards (smartly situated between the Ancient Runes and Arithmancy sectors), and though she wasn’t exactly <em> keen </em> on it except for the fact she wanted that damned suppressant made, she needed to scour the House Curses sector as well, to see if she could find <em> anything </em>to help Narcissa out. Though she doubted that she’d find any different results, considering Narcissa hadn’t found anything from the House of Black library, she simply couldn’t let the opportunity get away from her.</p><p>Apparition points were scattered across the premises, but she wasn’t as lazy as Ron, and with this being her first time here she wanted to experience it fully. Due to her status as a war heroine, she found herself begrudgingly signing a few autographs of photographs of her and the boys people had somehow procured, but thankfully one of the many librarians manning the castle noticed her discontent and pulled her aside after several minutes to cast a charm that would afford her some measure of privacy while inside the building. After thanking the wizard, she was able to continue along unimpeded until she reached the northeastern sectors where three of the four categories she was interested in perusing were located.</p><p>She knew she probably should have started with what she wasn’t as excited by, but it <em> was </em> her birthday and by Merlin, she’d allow herself a bit of enjoyment! Finding early editions of Icelandic grimoires on ancient runes and their applications, she had to remind herself that they <em> weren’t </em> spending the entire day here and would be going to Diagon Alley to browse and get lunch in a couple of hours or less. She picked two tomes that practically grasped at her magic, then did the same with a few arithmancy texts as well as two books that concerned themselves with various theories of how to safely deconstruct wards that held complex traps within their formations. As a Muggle-born, she too well knew of all the wards set against people like her and also knew there were plenty others she’d likely come across in her life. She wanted to be able to defend herself properly- it was merely a bonus that wards were like puzzles waiting to either be pieced together or cracked apart bit by bit.</p><p>With seven slightly shrunken texts floating just above her right shoulder, she surveyed her directory again, finding Ginny in the Martial Magics sector on the northwest side of the library. House Curses was… she dragged her finger, locating it seven sectors south of where Ginny currently was. A noise from her wristwatch reminded her that she had less than an hour left, and it would easily take her fifteen minutes at a brisk pace to reach that sector. And what she needed was <em> time</em>. Fortunately, the library had several banishment cubes set into walls that patrons could use because freely apparating with any of the library’s books wasn’t allowed, wasn’t <em> possible</em>. Upon reaching one of the cubes, she used a table set to its side to wrap her books together with a ribbon, sticking a parchment note with her name on it and adding her magical signature for easier checkout. After placing the books into the cube, they were banished to the front checkout desk in a plume of white smoke that dissipated as quickly as it appeared.</p><p>Most of the apparition points around the library were near these banishment cubes; entering into a patch of flooring that was encircled in a softly glowing green line, she heard magic prodding at her own, asking where she’d like to go. At the mere thought of “<em>House Curses sector</em>,” she felt that familiar tugging behind her navel as she was taken to the apparition point closest to that area.</p><p>After visiting the loo nearby- taking Narcissa’s advice to pay attention to the tugs, especially after that close-call- she saw that the sector in mind had its own directory stuck at the end of each row within it, but it wasn’t much help at all to Hermione. One needed to have a strong connection to at least one of the pure-blood Houses to see details on any of the grimoires within, and as a Muggle-born witch, even if she <em> did </em> somehow descend from some pure-blood House from centuries ago, it wouldn’t help her now. She <em> could </em>find Ginny and ask her because she knew that the Prewett line was connected to the Black family somewhat recently through Ignatius. But she… no, she couldn’t. But she shoul-</p><p>She was jerked away from her thoughts by hands coming up around her shoulders, gripping them and applying a… <em> Merlin</em>, she should have reacted by now, but an airy voice calmed her alongside the impromptu mini-massage. She didn’t need to worry.</p><p>“It’s only me, Hermione,” Luna lightly remarked, “You’ve many wrackspurts about you, but doing this,”- she pressed her fingers into Hermione’s skin again -“is lessening their presence. Are you seeking something from this sector?”</p><p>Hermione could only hum in confirmation and was somehow left disappointed when Luna removed her hands and reached a pale hand out for her directory. With a tap of her wand to Ginny’s location on the map, the red-head was drawn to their side after another minute. She glared at them both as she approached, but it was clearly put-upon and when Luna loosely waved at her in greeting, Ginny cracked a smile.</p><p>“Hermione may correct me if I am wrong, but I believe…” Luna hummed as she curled a thick strand of light blonde hair around her index finger, “that she requires a pure-blood to access certain texts in this sector. Am I right, Hermione?”</p><p>Flushing furiously, partly from frustration that this sector was essentially locked to Muggle-borns without pure-blood aid, and partly from… she wasn’t going to even <em> go </em>there, she gave a stiff nod and huffed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s pure shite, but… yes. I can’t access anything if I’m not at all recently, strongly related to the pure-blood House in question, which… in my case… is all of them.”</p><p>Ginny grimaced. “Load of bollocks, that is. Which family were you looking into?”</p><p>“Black,” she muttered, casting her eyes away from the other two witches. “I, er, need to see if the manor’s library is missing anything. For my… for handling <em> this</em>,” she gestured to her left forearm, the scar hidden by the sleeve of her robe. Ginny reached out and squeezed her shoulder once before heading over to a directory, trailing her finger down a list Hermione couldn’t see. This was ridiculous, and she had the mind to let a librarian know that this was… this was again, simply <em> ridiculous</em>! Everything in a library should be accessible to the public- pure-blood families shouldn’t let go of their books if they wanted privacy.</p><p>“Found their section!” Ginny exclaimed, only to wince as a shushing jinx looked to go through her mind. “Blimey,” she said, much more quietly, “and it’s quite small. The Weasley section is <em> huge</em>. Granted, we don’t have a library at the Burrow...”</p><p>“If it’s quite as small as you say, could you show me where? I’m not sure what you’ll need to do to allow me to look at them, but-”</p><p>“Oh!” Ginny chirped, a grin tugging at her lips, “I’ll only need to, hm,” she double-checked something on the directory, “Er, touch the spines of the books with my wand and then cast <em> communico doctrina </em>on you? The books will recognise my bloodline and allow it, considering both sides of my family are related to the Blacks.”</p><p>Hermione beamed at Ginny and rushed to hug her, thanking her profusely before the younger witch started to lead the way towards the Black section. Taking an extra moment, she turned to face Luna and enveloped her too in an embrace, murmuring a soft thanks to her as well. Luna took a moment to hug her back, but when she did, an overwhelming and delightful sandalwood scent permeated her sense of smell. The Ravenclaw woman tightened her hold for another moment before releasing Hermione, airily smiling at her before almost skipping off in the direction that Ginny had gone.</p><p>As she headed the same way as the other two, Hermione had the flash of a thought that while sandalwood <em> was </em> a lovely scent, lavender was much, much more calming… safe as well. It wasn’t because Narcissa had smelled of lavender, no, the scent itself was known to aid in relief of anxiety and other like upsets, even more so than what Muggles knew of. She figured she could actually do with some lavender in her quarters as well as Grimmauld Place and made a note in her mind to stop by a flower shop in Diagon Alley later. Neville might also be worth talking to about any other beneficial qualities of the flower, or other methods of utilising it.</p><p>“Hermione!” Ginny whispered as loudly as she could, gesturing at the fourth shelf of a bookcase that she was standing next to while Luna sat on the corner of a table nearby. “Found them,” the red-head grinned before going through the process of allowing Hermione to touch and look through the Black family tomes. Which… of course, there’d only be a handful of them. She levitated the four grimoires to sit atop the table Luna was perched on and sat down in a chair near the blonde.</p><p>Clearly these were some of the oldest Black texts on record, if the state of the books and the knowledge that seemingly none of the Black sisters knew about them said anything. Tucking her wand into its holster, she gently opened the oldest tome, its date of creation stated as April 1628, and its writing completed in early modern English- which thankfully she didn’t have much trouble understanding. Every spell and every magical creation that a Black invented from the twelfth century up to 1627 was included, and there was a rather astonishing number of Light and Grey magic detailed, but towards the end of the sixteenth century, an increasing number of Dark magicks appeared.</p><p>Just as Hermione was about to get lost in reading about an amulet that could act as a rune conjoiner, her eyes crossed as she felt someone place a finger at the tip of her nose. A pale finger, she noted, then glanced up to see Luna smiling down at her, but it was Ginny who spoke from her other side.</p><p>“I’m sure there’s absolutely <em> fascinating </em> stuff in there, Hermione, but I’m <em> starving</em>. Up for checking these out and sending them your quarters at Hogwarts? They seal them in a chest that only your magical signature can open, so no worries about someone stealing them.”</p><p>“I could go for a meal as well,” Luna lightly said as she hopped off the table. “And you, Hermione?”</p><p>“It <em> has </em> been a while since breakfast,” she agreed. And so, after checking out, then sending several books to her quarters in Gryffindor Tower, the three of them apparated to Diagon Alley for a spot of lunch and an afternoon in both Wizarding and Muggle London.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Later that evening she was standing in front of what looked like an abandoned, derelict shopfront. But instead, as she soon found out, it was merely the Muggle front for a Wizarding club. The Griffin’s Nest had several physical floors that ran a couple of kilometres underneath London, much like how the Ministry of Magic worked. Except instead of subsections of the Wizarding British government, the Nest (as it was commonly shortened to) was composed of various personal clubs that were initially separated by physical floor and, more importantly, variety or <em> flavour</em>.</p><p>Hermione wasn’t really a fan of clubs. Her friends knew that, yet they still brought her here, and they only managed to get her to come by amping up the <em> intrigue </em> of the place, that it <em> wasn’t </em> your typical club. It was told that no one knew exactly how many <em> metaphysical </em> floors there truly were to the Griffin’s Nest, but that by drinking a personalised concoction and entering the lift, it read your desires and deposited you into the personalised floor or club that called to you. It felt like a challenge to Hermione, a challenge to prove wrong, that no magic could <em> read </em> her desires and know her so easily. There was only one Room of Requirement, and a person had to <em> actively </em> think of what they wanted, what they desired- it wasn’t passive, you had to put effort in. Or perhaps, she thought that if she emptied her mind enough- the lift wouldn’t know <em> what </em>to do with her. She mentioned this to Ron- who by some miracle had put off being an arsehole about their relationship troubles for the evening- as they entered the ground floor of the club right behind Luna, as well as Ginny and Harry who were already holding hands. One of the best parts of the club, she had to admit, was its full-body disguisement charm- she could see her friends for who they were, but taking a glance at the full-length mirrors to their left and right, they looked like entirely different people to the public. Even when they said each other’s names, others outside of their group heard an entirely different one.</p><p>“Merlin, Hermione, never one to stop thinking about ways you can outsmart something, yeah?” Ron chuckled somewhat awkwardly, reaching for her hand. She nearly took it away, but didn’t particularly want to get into an argument on her birthday, and he <em> was </em>trying for her, at least tonight. But-</p><p>“Hey, that way of thinking helped us get through a lot at Hogwarts!” She squeezed his hand gently, trying to reassure him that she wasn’t trying to start a disagreement. He seemed to understand, merely nodding his head as they made their way over to one of the bars where patrons of the club downed a drink that came in various colours, one that would <em> “start the experience off right!” </em> Or at least that’s what a flashing neon-like banner above them announced. It was too vague for Hermione’s liking, but she looked to Luna’s sense of openness in this sort of situation and drained a light blue fizzy drink that a house-elf handed to her. It went down like a burst of cool mint-flavoured air, chilling her from head to toe until it hit her stomach and spread throughout her body, like ice flames tickling her.</p><p>Ron’s drink was <em> definitely </em>sour by the exaggerated grimace he pulled, and gods she couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Even if she knew they needed to break up, she still… a part of her desperately wanted to try and remain friends with him. But she couldn’t dwell on that now. She turned her head, seeing how Luna smacked her lips, commenting on a sweet taste from her purple drink, while Ginny’s left her steaming out of her ears as if she’d taken a Pepper-Up, and Harry, well- his green bubbly drink left him smiling contentedly. He didn’t say what it tasted like, but quite clearly it was pleasant. They left their drinks, a tab opened up under Potter (or “Wrightwick,” as the ink so spilt), and made their way to the lifts on the opposite end of the floor.</p><p>The lifts looked like any other. A few were older and modelled after the ones at the Ministry, while others looked much more like their modern Muggle counterparts that she’d come across in some of London’s taller buildings while with her parents years ago. There was something open and more inviting to the old-fashioned gated lifts, though, which drew Hermione to one of them, nearly forgetting Ron in the process. He took hold of her by her upper arm, though, reminding her that, oh, yes- she wasn’t alone. But she- something was overwhelmingly telling her she <em> needed </em>to be alone, yet-</p><p>“Hey,” Ron murmured, pulling her close. “We should go together, yeah? Harry and Ginny are. Would figure we might end up with the same floor, considering…” he trailed off, looking pointedly at her. Imploring her to see things as he did, almost.</p><p>Hermione’s eyes flitted from Ron to- right, Harry and Ginny <em> did </em> enter another lift together, the red-headed witch wrapped up in Harry’s arms. She could imagine him resting his chin atop her head, and it was the sweetest picture. Swallowing, she turned back to look at Ron, nodding for some reason. Perhaps if they weren’t meant to get off together, the club would take care of it seamlessly. And perhaps they <em> would </em> get off together- either way, it didn’t say anything conclusive about their relationship. She wasn’t going to let a bloody <em> building </em>dictate that, and she hoped Ron wouldn’t either. Even if it would help her case if the building separated them.</p><p>As the lift moved- which way she wasn’t quite sure, it felt like they <em> were </em> moving, but she couldn’t tell if it was down, left, right, diagonal- Ron pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek. She half-grimaced- Merlin, he was trying too hard to spark something. “I know you typically enjoy spending nights at home, reading, doing research, which we can <em> definitely </em>do tomorrow after we talk, but we hope you’ll like this, Hermione. This place is known for its talents at reading people, what they want, giving it to them. Which is why-”</p><p>“They only let people come a few times a year?” she finished, turning her gaze upward towards her left to look at him. He nodded after a moment’s hesitation and pressed another kiss to the corner of her mouth. She fought back the bristling energy that threatened to overcome her rational sense.</p><p>She watched Ron step back of his own accord (or perhaps from the building’s interference) as something invisible swept through the lift, hovering over their magic, pressing against them gently. <em> Reading </em> them, Ronald said. She shivered as her magic pulsated against the magical aura, sensing it as it probed, <em> communicated</em>. Ron chuckled, and she flashed a wary stare at him- did his feel <em> good </em>to him? Hers flashed hot and cold, pleasure and pain, settling somewhere in a mildly uncomfortable middle. Then, as soon as the presence left them, the lift came to a stop, its gate opening.</p><p>Feeling herself pulled forward into what only looked like darkness, she sensed the strong compulsion spell but didn’t have it in her to fight it. She felt <em> welcomed</em>, but also… a slight bit apprehensive? As she exited the lift, she turned to see Ron’s hands gripping the shut gate, deep blue eyes staring at her with an unreadable expression before the lift disappeared completely.</p><p>She was alone.</p><p>The room came to life in an instant- a dense fog splayed outwards, bursting apart at the seams-  and of course, <em> of course </em> she was in a library despite having been in a real one earlier. This was a great expanse of a circular library unlike the castle, though, by the looks of the high domed ceiling. Hermione began to walk down the aisle she was already in, gazing down rows of bookcases as she went until she entered the open centre of the library. Several steps leading down into this atrium revealed a cosy reading area that probably resembled a mash-up of the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff common rooms; though she’d only been in one, she’d heard enough about Hufflepuff’s to surmise that it was a supremely comfortable and warm common room, likely the complete aesthetic antithesis to Slytherin’s.</p><p>So, this was what she desired. She was glad that Ron hadn’t come with her… it wasn’t to his tastes at all as she knew him. A pang of guilt shot through her, shouldn’t she <em> want </em>him here with her, even simply as friends? Shouldn’t she- she wondered what the library would have looked like then, if-</p><p>
  <em> ‘Shut up.’</em>
</p><p>“What?” she asked no one, because she- she <em> was </em>alone, wasn’t she?</p><p>
  <em> ‘That Weasley boy isn’t your bonded. Let me show you...’ </em>
</p><p>Some sort of compulsion drew her into a plush seat. She held her head in her hands as flashes of memories not her own pierced her mind: Bellatrix during her later Hogwarts days, simply sitting by the lake and reading; Bellatrix coming to her sisters’ defence before their mother at Black Manor a few decades prior, physically shielding Narcissa; and Bellatrix holding a near newborn Draco, some kind of apprehension in her gaze, as if afraid she’d somehow hurt her own nephew. Hermione clenched her jaw, shaking her head.</p><p>“Don’t do this. No amount of good in her towards her own blood makes up for all of the terrible crimes and acts of violence she’s committed! You can’t <em> make </em> me like her.”</p><p>
  <em> ‘Oh, but I can try. I must.’ </em>
</p><p>“You’re no better than a bloody love potion, then!” she cried out. She wanted something real, something that she didn’t feel she <em> had </em> to fall into because everyone expected it- like she and Ron. She wanted something that wasn’t the product of outside influence. Or rather, inner in this case. She scratched at her face with blunt fingernails and opened her eyes again, lifting her head towards the glass dome ceiling.</p><p>She wanted… safety. And comfort. And most of all, something she wanted all on her own, without anyone else’s opinion or magic influencing her. Something decidedly real. <em> That </em> was what she desired, and that’s what her own thoughts, her own magic poured out into the club floor the lift had left her on. Closing her eyes again, head angled down towards her lap, Hermione struggled to separate the blood bond within her from herself. It clutched at her mind, scratching, clawing, trying to dig itself in. She hissed as she felt the barest of separations.</p><p>It was only when another pair of hands landed on her shoulders and started to massage the tense muscles underneath that Hermione allowed herself to let out a soft moan, blinking her eyes open. Tilting her head to the side a bit, she saw pale, slender fingers working their way into her, kneading at her skin. She leaned back into the seat, pleasantly trembling at the way the person rubbed their thumbs into the top of her shoulder blades in a soothing circular motion.</p><p>“Merlin, don’t stop doing that…” she mumbled to the one who’d brought her out of descending into a mad spiral with the suddenly and frighteningly sentient blood bond. The fingers on her stilled for an instant but then went back to the same soothing. With her eyes shut, Hermione didn’t see the blonde hair out of her peripheral vision as the person lowered themselves to speak against her ear. But oh gods, she felt it and shivered.</p><p>“Does this make you feel good, Hermione?” the frustratingly familiar and feminine voice whispered. A low moan escaped her as she pieced together who the voice belonged to. She didn’t look back, though, in case the bond wanted to toy with her even more. Swallowing, she nodded, and then sighed in sheer pleasure as one hand- released from massaging her right shoulder- ran teasing fingers through her curls, every so often pausing at her scalp to scratch lightly at it. The voice came back by her ear and said, “I might be what many have conjured in this place, but it’s <em> your </em> desire that means the most, my darling.”</p><p>Hermione softly groaned as the other hand came up to her hair to gently caress it, but after what felt like no time the contact ceased, and she whined at the void it left. Before she had time to dwell on it for too long, though, the woman walked around the seat to kneel down in front of her, hands resting on her knees which served to only make Hermione spread her legs slightly. Opening her eyes, Hermione found the pale blue irises of Narcissa Malfoy- or at least a conjured <em> image </em> of the older witch- staring back at her. At the time their gazes met, the older witch's image grinned mischievously, drumming the fingers of one her hands against Hermione’s lower thigh.</p><p>“Narcissa…” Hermione breathed out, a heated hunger entering her tone. A pleasant chill ran over her body when the other woman smirked and made to sit in her lap, wrapping her arms around Hermione’s neck before placing a firm kiss to her cheek. <em>Oh god, oh Merlin, oh- oh </em>fuck. She swallowed hard as she noticed the dilation of Narcissa’s eyes, the <em>want</em> in them. This was thoroughly too much for her senses, this place was throwing <em>everything </em>at her all at once, and she… she <em>sincerely </em>didn’t want this image, however real it felt, of Narcissa’s countenance to be her first kiss related to the blonde. If- if the real Narcissa even <em>wanted </em>her like she did- which, she couldn’t, right? Right.</p><p>Biting down on her lip, she shook her head and tightly squeezed her eyes shut until the weight of the image dissipated, leaving her alone and breathless. At the pool of warmth between her legs, she realised that she was in it way too deep. Way, <em> way </em> too deep and threatening to drown. And drown she would, because without the floor’s Narcissa here, the bond came back in force, shoving at her mind, making her feel what wasn’t <em> her</em>. She shot up to her feet and started to walk, hoping that would distract her enough, but-</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><em> “Hello, pet,” </em>the sultry drawl floated by her ear at the same time that black curls grazed her right cheek. The owner of the voice stopped in front of her, halting her path forward. When she tried to move away, hands roughly grabbed her shoulder and the image of Bellatrix flashed a toothy leer in her direction. Hermione shuddered, but the scar on her arm burned like it was delighted that the one who had caused it was back- touching, stroking fingertips sensually down her arms.</p><p>Hermione snapped away from Bellatrix’s image, turning and folding her arms around herself. A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind and hot breath raced against her ear, <em> “As if you could get away from me that easily, Granger.” </em> Bellatrix- the <em> bond </em> chuckled, removing one hand only to part Hermione’s bushy hair and nip at the shell of her ear. <em> “Does the little pet need a proper release that the Weasel can never provide? We’re bonded, you know, I can </em> feel <em> your desire, and I know my way perfectly well around a witch’s cunt. You want this. You do. </em> Admit <em> it.” </em></p><p>Wh- why couldn’t she move, jerk herself away and run? Why was she- silent tears tracked down her face as she violently shook her head. “You can’t <em> feel </em> that, you admitted so yourself in your letter after- after Ron and I- and it’s not because of <em> you </em> I’m like that now!” She choked back a sob. This was <em> supposed </em> to be a good experience, and she <em> couldn’t </em> blame her friends, even <em> she </em> hadn’t realised that the bond could act up like this here- its desires mixed in with her own, fighting each other. She gulped and finally found the strength to try to pull away from Bellatrix, but the Dark witch’s countenance- the <em> bond </em>that had created her here, perverting her own desires with its intended goal, gripped her even tighter while one hand slowly snaked its way down to the waistline of her trousers, parting fabric from skin, the palm of her hand against her lower abdomen, threatening to delve further, to violate.</p><p>It was as fingertips teased at soft curls right above her sex, only then, that she managed by some sheer force and willpower to thrust herself away from the Bellatrix countenance, and a moment later she saw pale blonde hair and blue eyes running towards her, but it wasn’t-</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“<em>Luna?!</em>” she exclaimed, never happier or more relieved to see the younger witch in her <em> life</em>. Not sure whether the Ravenclaw was the real Luna or another image of a real person, she didn’t care, all she knew was it gave her all the power she needed to rid the floor of any trace of the bond-Bellatrix as she enveloped her arms around Hermione and held her tight. Not sure how she got rid of Bellatrix, only deliriously overjoyed as she watched the Dark witch’s countenance vanish in an explosion of pitch-black smoke, a frustrated scream the last evidence of the bond’s physical intrusion. She collapsed with Luna still holding her to the soft carpet beneath her feet in a heap, her heart pounding in her chest from the adrenaline and overwhelming fear that- that she could have been <em> violated </em> like that. Even if it wasn’t really Bellatrix doing it, it all felt so bloody <em> real</em>.</p><p>As she finally let herself comprehend the body holding her, a soft and dreamy voice asked if she was all right. With a watery laugh, Hermione shook her head and allowed herself to be drawn into an even tighter hug that felt so much more real than anything else she’d seen tonight once Ron had left for elsewhere in the lift. This- this Luna was the real one, her magic thrummed with the absolute unwavering knowledge of it. And this Luna comforted her like a true friend. She drew back, kissed Hermione’s forehead, helped her stand, and redirected her attention back to the library, always keeping their hands together.</p><p>Eventually, walking towards the end of an aisle they came upon something that resembled an English seaside. Luna settled in front of the body of water first, patting the space of sand beside her. She asked nothing of Hermione, only stayed a constant reassuring presence at her side as Hermione stared somewhere into the middle distance, trying to wrap her head around everything. It wasn’t real. It <em> seemed </em> real. She vaguely realised that she was in a state of shock, and whenever she came down from it-</p><p>“You should make a Floo call to Mrs. Malfoy,” Luna remarked.</p><p>Hermione turned to take in the younger witch’s profile. “Wh-what? Why?”</p><p>Luna shrugged. “Your wrackspurts.”</p><p>Okay, great, good- that cleared everything up <em> perfectly</em>. She wasn’t sure if Luna could tell she was lying when she said that she would contact Narcissa later when she arrived back to her quarters in Gryffindor Tower, but at least it meant Luna dropped the subject and they fell back into a somewhat comfortable silence. The club floor managed to mostly make up for what the bond had done to the evening, as if Luna- the <em> real </em> one- somehow breaking into it had made it cognisant of how much it’d <em> fucked up</em>. But she couldn’t ask for a failsafe to be put in, it wasn’t like blood bonds of this sort were <em> common</em>, especially considering that this one had been non-consensual.</p><p>If she were fully in possession of her faculties, she would have immediately asked Luna what had brought her here. She didn’t know of any way one person could come into another’s floor unless they had entered it together in the first place. But she was simply too tired after everything, too tense, too… Hermione grasped her knees tightly, her knuckles going white until Luna reached over and rest her hand on top. The touch of another, an exceedingly gentle touch at that, calmed her for the time being. She focused on breathing in, out… over and over until she felt some semblance of <em>okay</em> again, that she could handle seeing the others.</p><p>It was only after they left the floor (<em>“one hour at a time, mates!” </em> ) and headed back out into Muggle London with the others that Hermione cooled down enough to wrap one of her hands around Luna’s and whisper in her ear, “You <em>have </em>to tell me how you were called into my floor.” Luna, Merlin help her, grinned from ear to ear before placing a finger on Hermione’s lips- it was almost a wonder she hadn’t conjured a countenance of the Ravenclaw on the floor- and telling her that she would once she understood it herself (<em>if I ever do</em>, she clarified).</p><p>Bending back down slightly to Luna’s ear again, she murmured, “And you’ll keep this all in confidence?”</p><p>Luna nodded. “Though I’m afraid one other already knows, and a second will soon.”</p><p>All right, that was rather cryptic. Ron, Harry, and Ginny were acting normally, albeit Ron kept casting her and Luna the oddest of looks. At least he wasn’t pestering her about anything after she'd told them all what had appeared in her club, minus the… details. He was probably keeping himself from bugging her too much because even he realised that’d be an absolute prick move on her birthday of all days. She’d taken enough from her floor at the Nest, she didn’t need him piling on top of it.</p><p>At least… most of her day had gone well- she focused on that fact as she and the two other witches parted from the boys. Ron hugged her, but it felt stiff. They really did need to have a proper sit-down and talk things out. That could come tomorrow, though. It <em> would </em>come tomorrow, whether she wanted it or not. For now, she needed some good sleep after such a day. She only hoped that she could get it.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Narcissa was jolted awake by Bellatrix’s shrieking. Wait, <em> what</em>? She wasn’t in Black Manor, why was she- the <em> Floo</em>! Scrambling to get to her feet, she threw a dressing gown over her négligée and knowing that she was too frazzled to apparate without possibly splinching something, she took to her feet and ran down to the drawing-room as quickly as possible. Panting to get her breath back, she knelt in front of the fireplace and saw Bellatrix in such a crazed state that she wondered if she’d been thrown backwards in time to when her eldest sister had only just broken out of Azkaban and came to Malfoy Manor for the first time since Draco was a newborn.</p><p>“Cissy!” Bellatrix gasped out. “This sodding <em> bond</em>, Granger-”</p><p>“What’s wrong, Bella? What does,” she swallowed hard, “what does Miss Granger have to do with you waking me this time of night?” </p><p>Bellatrix breathed in and out harshly through her nose, sending sparks from the fire flying close to Narcissa’s bare toes. Her sister squeezed her eyes shut, and the next thing she saw was Bellatrix’s face downing a… “Is that one of the vials for the bond?”</p><p>Wide-eyed, Bella yelled, “YES! The fucking mudb-” another wince, “<em>Granger, </em> has me on my FOURTH ONE! I don’t know exactly <em> what </em>is going on with her, but-” Her sister hissed and grabbed at her head.</p><p><em> Breathe, Narcissa</em>, <em> breathe, </em> she told herself<em>. </em>She chewed on the inside of her cheek and nodded.</p><p>“I’ll go to her and put a stop to this, just let me-” She’d wanted to not seem <em> that </em> interested in attending to Hermione, even though her heart was beating so fast in her chest now that it felt like a constant <em> vibration</em>. It was only a couple of hours into September twentieth, the day after Hermione’s birthday. She should either still be out having fun or peacefully at sleep. Or spending time in her quarters with a few of her friends. Anything but-</p><p>“NO, Cissy- you- <em> shit</em>, you have to go <em> NOW! </em> Take a sedative potion for the witch, <em> something </em> so I- <em> Merlin, FUCK! </em>” her sister shrieked, eyes squeezed shut.</p><p>Narcissa raised her hands in complete surrender, exclaiming, “Okay, okay! Leave now and I’ll Floo to her quarters at Hogwarts- for Salazar’s <em> sake</em>, Bella! I’ll fix this, I promise.” Bellatrix stared her down for only a moment more, then darkly murmured, “You better,” before disappearing from the fireplace.</p><p>She took one look down at herself, thankful she at least had a dressing gown on, before she stood, summoning a pinch of Floo powder between her fingers and making the trip to Hermione’s quarters. When emergency need arises…</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Her mind was on fire, and her sheets were soaked through from sweat.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em> Bellatrix’s hand snaked down further on her abdomen, continuing its descent until she reached the tip of her slit underneath her knickers. She was powerless as the other witch straddled her on the floor of Malfoy Manor. The Dark witch leaned down next to her ear, “you know you want this, Granger,” before snapping at her earlobe, fingers opening up her folds. She wasn’t wet, and it- she hissed in pain as Bellatrix kneed her legs further apart for better access. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The scene shifted, and foreign pleasure masked natural shock and blazing pain. But as soon as it came it left again, leaving her back on the floor of Malfoy Manor, writhing under Bellatrix, trying to buck her off, but it only- </em>
</p><p><em> “Oh, you </em> do <em> want this, don’t you?” Bellatrix cackled, her voice tinged with something</em> other<em>,</em><em> and ground down onto her, sucking at glistening wet fingers that couldn’t- that </em> couldn’t <em> be from her body! She’d never become </em> wet <em> for </em> her<em>! She- she’d </em> <b> <em>tortured </em> </b> <em> her, and nothing would ever change tha- </em></p><p>She woke gasping for air, tears running down her cheeks as she shivered violently, a phantom- <em> please be phantom, please be phantom, </em>she repeatedly thought as she cupped herself under her pyjamas, sighing in relief- a phantom ache that disappeared as she fully crossed into the waking world.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>That wasn't how it happened, she told herself. That wasn't… Bellatrix hadn't done that to her.</p><p>It was the shadows dancing on the walls of her quarters that sent her curling back into sweaty sheets, squeezing her eyes shut even if it only took her back to flashing images of that nightmare scenario mixed with reality.</p><p>Her mind was <em> still </em> on fire, and her body was aching for no bloody realistic reason. Shuddering and curling further into herself, she fought sleep, but it came quickly again, and just as quickly her mind was a full-blown <em> forest fire</em>. Malfoy Manor reality mixed with what had nearly happened at the club in even more intensity, and it was only at someone shaking her roughly that she woke with a harsh, broken cry.</p><p>Sitting up and gasping for air again, one hand to her chest while the other clamped over her mouth, trying to keep herself from sicking up- she looked around wide-eyed until she saw a dark female form come into focus. Shrinking back on instinct and mumbling, “No, no, no, no,” she bunched her too hot blankets to her body and nearly fell out of the bed from hurriedly scooting backwards, away from the dark shape. A hand reached out and grabbed her right forearm before she tumbled off the edge of the mattress and pulled her back to… was it safety or danger?</p><p>“D-don’t hurt me!” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut. The hand on her arm loosened, and she heard a small voice cast- was that light beyond her eyelids? Slowly blinking her eyes open again, she found several floating candles, all lit around her quarters, and a few closer to her bed. Her eyes then travelled to the dark shape she’d been so frightened of and saw… Narcissa. </p><p>
  <em> Narcissa.  </em>
</p><p>She wanted to cry into the woman’s chest and hide from her at the same time. Taking a deep breath, Hermione instead wiped at her eyes and shuddered, her breaths still coming unevenly. Narcissa, for all of her supposed pure-blood poise, was fiddling incessantly with her fingers, biting down on her lip and looking at her like she wanted to comfort her but also didn’t want to cause an adverse reaction by touching her again. Hermione’s heart settled back in its proper slot in her chest as it broke at the sight in front of her.</p><p>“I- I was having ni-nightmares,” she said softly, her voice rough around the edges as she let the bedsheets fall from her fingers. “Wh-why are you here?”</p><p>“I was woken by Bellatrix-” Narcissa shut her mouth as Hermione shrunk back into herself again. Hermione scratched at the cursed scar on her left forearm. “She was… adamant that I come here because she was on her… fourth vial.” The older witch breathed out softly through her mouth, and Hermione viscerally felt as Narcissa’s eyes took in the sight of not only <em> her</em>, but her bed as well.</p><p>Hermione shrugged. “S’her fault. I-” she gulped, unable to recount the story now, “I don’t think I should sleep anymore tonight. I can’t… can’t risk dependency on Dreamless Sleep, but I…” she trailed off, her mind flickering back to the nightmares.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p><em> Bellatrix pinning her to the floor. Straddling her. Hot whispers against her ear as she ground down onto her. Fingers travelling down her abdomen, reaching her sex, parting her folds. Dry. Painful. Then suddenly </em> wet<em>, replacing pain with a pleasure she didn’t want. </em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“C-can you Obliviate the last several hours from my mind?” she asked, glancing up, her voice so quiet she wasn’t even sure Narcissa could hear her. “Maybe then, I could…” but Narcissa was next to her in a heartbeat, wrapping warm arms around her, rocking her, shushing her. She flinched at the contact at first, but Narcissa only tightened her hold.</p><p><em> I will not Obliviate you, Hermione, </em> a new voice entered her mind. That… that had never happened before. It was as distracting as it was gently soothing. It was… surprisingly, exactly what she needed. <em> Please forgive me for entering your mind like this. But… but people have Obliviated themselves or had others try in the past in attempts to erase traumas from their memories, but they are never fully erased because they are so highly charged with dark emotions. Some have driven themselves mad trying. </em></p><p>Hermione melted into the other witch’s hold, nodding into Narcissa’s shoulder. Without even trying to Occlude like Professor Snyde had told her to keep trying every night, her mind murmured, <em> can you stay</em>, to which she heard nothing for the space of a few seconds, then, <em> of course </em>, came the other voice, so like Narcissa’s but somewhat muffled by the fog overcoming her mind. Still so soothing, though. Warm, too, or maybe that was simply from Narcissa holding her, laying them back down on the bed together, and the older witch must have cast to clean her sheets because they weren’t soaked through with her sweat anymore.</p><p>It felt… she didn’t have the right word for it, but “like home” suited well enough, her hazy mind supposed, instinctively snuggling in closer to the soft body holding her before finally drifting off to a surprisingly dreamless sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I typically wait until finishing a fic to post songs that inspired me, but  wanted to go ahead and drop two that really, really, *really* speak to me about this fic. like, the entire feel I'm going for with it overall. and these two songs are <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_LIftfjx90">Broken by S. Carey</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m25tT4RBcIA">Modest Mountains by Field Division</a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>narcissa and hermione spend the morning together, hermione helps luna out with some research in the restricted section, narcissa goes to andromeda's to spoil teddy, and ron and hermione have a much-needed talk.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello lovelies! here's a little present to end the year with because i feel like it instead of waiting another week. thanks to my beta, Erin26_94, for checking it over. 💛 i hope everyone's had good holidays, and happy new year! (still have five and a half hours to go here but a lot of the world's already there lol) stay safe, and i dearly hope everyone's 2021 is much brighter than this year was 💛</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Narcissa noticed two things upon waking: she was not at the manor and she was <em> not </em> alone. Slowly blinking her eyes open to the morning light, she was met with a head of bushy brown curls underneath her chin, and a much cosier bed than the lavish one she slept in alone at the manor. She then looked slightly past the top of Hermione’s head (she was laying in bed with <em> Hermione Granger</em>, still trying to wrap her mind around it and last night’s events) and squinted at the sight of the burgeoning sunrise that shone through the balcony windows. It was absolutely, breathtakingly gorgeous, but… and she cast her eyes downwards, taking in what she could of the younger witch ensconced within her arms- it was not as beautiful as the woman before her, who she was… well, considering harmlessly flirting with once she woke, start the day off with a bit of that Slytherin charm, test the waters. She wasn’t divorced <em> yet</em>, but the plans were in motion, and she could allow herself what was within the boundaries of her vows. Even if she <em> did </em>still need to talk to Hermione about what had happened the previous night… they didn’t need to start with it immediately.</p><p>It was Sunday morning, the twentieth, and Teddy would be five months old later today- she had plans to visit and gift him something completely unnecessary, but she’d made a habit of giving him <em> something </em>for each month, and she planned on keeping it that way until the little wizard was a year old. She was looking forward to it, to seeing her niece and sister, too, but right now… right now she was completely content to stay here, holding Hermione to her as the younger witch slept on. She could set a bit of a later alarm to her wand, which she could summon from the nightstand here that she’d left it on, and she was about to do just that when Hermione groaned softly beside her, hot breath against her breastbone. Narcissa shivered, then went completely taut as the other woman pushed one of her legs between Narcissa’s thighs so that they were even more entwined than before.</p><p>Several things happened in quick succession within the next few minutes. Hermione made several small noises, and Narcissa <em> thought </em> she heard slight distress, maybe a whimper, but nothing to immediately cause concern that the other woman was having another nightmare. Though that did remind her again that that was something they <em> still </em> needed to talk about. The younger witch moved against her a few times, and with wide eyes Narcissa wondered- <em> no</em>, no she wasn’t, but then there was a slight warmth where the apex of Hermione’s legs rested against one of Narcissa’s thighs, but that went away nearly as quickly as it came- that wasn’t, no, not arousal. She flushed at the thought. She was imagining things.</p><p>However, as Narcissa was at the edge of sleep again, nearly forgetting to set the alarm on her wand, Hermione’s body went stiff against her for a moment before the warmth returned, and before she could do anything, properly react in any way, the warmth <em> continued</em>, and she felt rivulets of warm liquid running down the width of her thigh that was pressed against the mattress. Swallowing thickly, she softly shut her eyes as Hermione wet the bed. She couldn’t wake her up now. She would wait, and she would wandlessly cast a cleansing spell on the mattress, sheets, and themselves, and simply fall asleep again. And Hermione would be none the wiser.</p><p>Except none of that worked out as she wanted, because <em> of course</em>.</p><p>Several seconds later, Hermione was stirring next to her, blissfully unaware of what she was doing until- and Narcissa felt it acutely- the younger witch went instantly rigid, Hermione’s thighs tensed against her own, presumably trying to stop herself (likely a futile effort, considering what she <em> did </em>know of the witch’s condition), but-</p><p>Narcissa held Hermione even closer to her, her grip ironclad tight as she gently intoned in a low hush, “Don’t try to stop. Finish- it’s all right, darling. It’s <em> all right</em>, I’ll clean us.” Hermione whimpered but ducked her head in what was likely an attempt at nodding, and Narcissa simply hummed consolingly against the other woman as she did exactly as she asked- she finished, and Narcissa did exactly as she said she would after: she cast a few well-placed cleansing spells, ridding the bed and themselves of every trace of the accident, and all was right as rain.</p><p>“Good girl. See? Everything’s back to normal,” she murmured into Hermione’s curls before she pressed a gentle kiss to the woman’s head. “It’s okay, <em> it’s okay</em>.”</p><p>“<em>How</em>?” Hermione rasped, shoulders slightly shaking. Narcissa tightened her grip reassuringly around the other witch for a moment, then loosened to not constrict. “I just-” the younger woman’s breath hitched, “I just <em> peed </em>on you, I-”</p><p>“Do trust me that even with house-elves,” she said, cutting Hermione off before she could ramble herself into full-blown tears, “I have encountered my fair share of accidents throughout my life, Hermione. I have two sisters and a son, after all. And I once had two cousins. Two younger, male cousins. You experienced, I believe, some type of trauma last night, and you simply…” she trailed off, allowing for Hermione to take control over the conversation.</p><p>“Forgot to... take my dose for the next forty-eight hours… and to re-apply the charm so my bedsheets could handle… this…” Hermione finished. The younger woman wrapped her arms tighter around Narcissa and squeezed before saying, “Thank you. How are you so… so <em> kind</em>?”</p><p>Narcissa chuckled and reached up to pet Hermione’s hair, jesting,  “That’s a closely guarded Black family secret, my dear, and you would do well to keep your knowledge of such extent to my ‘kindness’ firm to your chest. I do have <em> something </em> of a reputation to uphold, you are aware?”</p><p>She was pleased to hear Hermione chuckle softly against her, to feel the other woman’s body relaxing again. “Not to worry, <em> Mrs. Malfoy</em>, I’ll keep your secret as you have mine- though, it appears Bellatrix wasn’t let in on yours,” Hermione quipped, harkening back to her married name, turning around so her back was to Narcissa’s front. Narcissa chewed on the inside of her lip as her hands rested against Hermione’s stomach, thinking back to a time when her eldest sister <em> was </em>kind, or at least as kind as she ever was. Her kindness had usually been reserved for her and Andromeda before Andy had eloped with the Muggle-born Edward Tonks. Even then, as Bellatrix grew older, as their mother worked to strip Bella of every defect, every trace of a perceived flaw within her (she was the eldest Black, after all, and Mother could not ‘<em>stand </em> for one hair out of place,’ she was to be ‘the epitome of what <em> Black </em> stood for,’ to be ‘an example’ for her sisters), all of which were in no way actual <em> faults </em>… Bella had slipped further into barely hidden instability, growing colder, more fanatic in her pure-blood beliefs- into the daughter Druella Black had always wanted, at least until the Dark Lord had entered Bella’s life and led her away from having the perfect pure-blooded grandchildren their mother so desired. He gave her an out. A slight out, for her loyalty. An out that gradually drew more and more heated instability into the open.</p><p>Narcissa felt extremely fortunate that their mother had passed before Draco was old enough to remember her. She shuddered to think how much more difficult it would have been for her son if her mother had been included in any part of his life. It had been hard enough with Lucius and his father force-feeding their beliefs into her precious Dragon’s mind, poisoning him, but she knew she was also at fault by her complicity. At least… at least they had time now, to work through everything. And he was doing so, <em> so </em> well, her Dragon was.</p><p>“Bellatrix… is a story unto herself,” Narcissa admitted but went no further, because no sob story would make her sister’s criminal actions any less reprehensible, even if most of the time she hadn’t acted alone, especially during the First Wizarding War. Hermione of all people had no reason to hear such things about the woman who ruthlessly tortured her. “Also, I would suggest that if you must call me anything but my given name or a variant of it, you learn how to say <em> Ms. Black</em>. After all, my divorce shall be officially finalised come the end of this week.”</p><p>Her <em> divorce</em>. Salazar’s snakes, how she was looking forward to it, even if the first week after shaped up to be as painful as she had been warned of- it was of no wonder that Eleonora Zabini had chosen to murder her husbands rather than go through legal divorces. She smiled, listening again to Hermione’s contagious, barely contained excitement about her impending divorce. She listened to Hermione's remarks on all she could do again without the Malfoy name upon her like a weight on her back until she found herself slipping into unconsciousness again, though she had enough mind about her this time to set an alarm for a few hours later.</p><p>When she awoke again in the middle of the morning, she realised just how much better she had slept with her arms wrapped around Hermione Granger than she ever had with Lucius.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>It was odd, sitting up in bed, watching as Narcissa padded around her quarters as she prepared to leave for Malfoy Manor. Delightfully odd, though, and very, <em> very </em>distracting, because of how she now realised just how little the other witch was wearing compared to herself. Hermione was clad in full-length pyjama bottoms and a three-quarter sleeved top, while the older woman merely had an open robe over a négligée and wasn’t even wearing anything to cover her feet, nor had she done much to her hair besides pulling it into a lackadaisical bun. Her mouth was dry, and she had to avert her eyes too many times before she caught Narcissa’s. Oh, she knew she was putting off confronting her memories of the previous night, but… she was allowed to, right? For all of her so-called “old soul” qualities, she was still a nineteen, nearly twenty-year-old woman, and she was no stranger to appreciating other people’s desirable features and qualities.</p><p>For all of her refined and delicately angled features, though... it was Narcissa’s surprising amount of heart that honestly had her truly desiring the other woman. And she could admit it now, at least to herself- she had never <em> wanted </em> Ron like this. She had fallen into a relationship with him because, well, he was <em> there </em> and he was, for all matters speaking, a genuinely good-looking man. She could appreciate his features even if she wasn’t honest-to-Merlin <em> attracted </em>to him like she’d thought she could be for so long, and she knew he had a good heart in him- though at times it had been hard to see, namely... she never felt as if she could be completely open with him. He was, like Harry, more of a brother to her than anything else. And though she had no blood siblings of her own, she knew well enough that most siblings weren’t open books to each other.</p><p>“Hermione,” Narcissa’s soft intonation of her name drew her back to the present, “don’t forget that we <em> will </em> be speaking of what happened later today. I only promised Andromeda that I would be there for Teddy’s fifth month day, and I already have a gift for him. Can you promise to be here later today, <em> Miss Granger</em>?” Oh, Godric’s graces, that blasted woman’s teasing smirk. They’d talked about this earlier.</p><p>“Yes, <em> Ms. Black</em>,” Hermione bantered right back at her, rolling her eyes in amusement.</p><p>Narcissa lit up at the usage of her maiden name, but as she came over to her to press a light kiss to her cheek she simultaneously sent a mild stinging hex to Hermione’s-</p><p>“My <em> arse</em>, seriously? What was that for-” she tried to sound angry, but for the life of her knew she had failed miserably. The surprising kiss to her cheek had squashed any anger within her, just like a snap of the fingers.</p><p>“Your <em> dreadful </em> display of petulance, darling. Subtlety is not the art of Gryffindors, I am aware, but do work on it when you wish to act insolent,” Narcissa said smoothly, trailing fingers through Hermione’s hair. Hermione snickered and resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the blonde witch. Gods, how they could go from what had happened this morning to <em> this</em>, as if it had never happened in the first place... She looked back up at Narcissa, acutely aware of how fortunate she was to have such a person in the midst of what she was going through with Bellatrix Black and the ruddy bond she’d saddled her with. Which, thinking of the bond… it seemed to have worn its magic down some after… well, it wasn’t as loud against her magic or mind currently, at least.</p><p>While the events of the previous evening <em> were </em> still rolling about in her mind, with Narcissa’s presence she had managed to push them aside, and she only hoped she’d hold onto her current state of mind when she’d need to properly tell her what had happened at the Griffin’s Nest. Because she- she needed to tell <em> someone</em>. Certainly she was going to leave out what had happened <em> before </em> Bellatrix’s countenance had appeared, Narcissa didn’t need to know <em> those </em> specific details, but everything else felt necessary to talk about. Including- no, <em> especially </em> Luna’s part.</p><p>She sighed and reached up to grasp Narcissa’s hand which was still softly stroking her hair. It felt so damn good, but, “You should get going, Narcissa. I’m sure your family is looking forward to seeing you. I’ll be here this evening and we can talk then.”</p><p>It had to be wishful thinking on her part, but Narcissa nearly looked like she would like nothing more than to simply stay in her quarters with her. Hermione pushed that errant thought away and got out of bed herself, ushering the other woman towards the Floo, but not before thanking her yet again for her kindness that morning.</p><p>“It was nothing, my dear,” Narcissa said, “but I should tell you that I plan on pestering my dear sister- Andy, that is- to work on a more permanent solution for you. You shouldn’t have to remember to always take a potion that reminds of…” her words tapered off as she looked somewhere into the middle distance behind Hermione, then she cleared her throat and continued, “Well, you are right- I best be off. I will see you tonight.”</p><p><em> It was nothing</em>, she had said, and Hermione considered the words as Narcissa’s form vanished into green flames. It may have been that to the other woman, but, to Hermione- without one sliver of a doubt- it had meant everything.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Hermione spent the better part of her day in the Hogwarts library, though for once it was not due to need or desire to revise, but only for comfort and dare say another way to keep her mind occupied instead of drifting, which would inevitably lead to thinking about… no, she wasn’t going to. She needed to exercise her ability to compartmentalise things, anyway, for Professor Snyde’s Occlumency lessons. She had even forgone bringing two rather promising books from the stash she had checked out from the Library at Carnmin because currently they only reminded her of… nope, compartmentalise, she reminded herself forcefully. What she wanted was to continue curling up with a good bit of light reading, though for better or worse she happened to spot Luna Lovegood in the <em> Restricted Section </em>after taking a break for lunch, and her rampant curiosity got the better of her.</p><p>One of the things she had most been looking forward to during her seventh year was completely unrestricted access to a section of the library she had only acquired partial access to during her sixth year. Despite being of-age for the vast majority of her sixth year, Madam Pince had been unyielding in Hogwarts’ rule that <em> only </em> seventh years could ever have full access to the Restricted Section, and even then that was on good behaviour only. She’d counted herself fortunate that Katie Bell had been more than willing to check the rest of the section for information on certain Dark magic, though she was sure that if Katie knew about the slight memory charm she’d performed on her afterwards, wiping her mind of any recollection related to said Dark magic, she was certain she’d find herself on the very unfortunate end of Katie’s wand. Which might still happen, because that had been one of her very first attempts before modifying her parents’ memories, so it hadn’t exactly been ironclad.</p><p>It had almost been all for nought, and absolutely <em> had </em> been on the Horcrux side of things, but it had at least better prepared her for modifying her parents’ memories several months later. She hoped, as she was inexplicably drawn over to the Restricted Section now, that whatever Luna was looking for that her search would prove fruitful. She felt a keen desire to help the Ravenclaw, chalking it up to paying Luna back for coming to her the previous evening, grounding her when she needed it most.</p><p>“Hello, Hermione,” Luna said softly, not even turning to look and make sure it <em> was </em> her! Merlin’s beard, Luna Lovegood simply had to have some inclination for clairvoyance, and that was saying something from her because she simply <em> abhorred </em> Divination of any sort. But Luna… she wasn’t Professor Trelawney. She didn’t put on some over-dramatic show for the subject, which had only served to undermine the field as a whole in Hermione’s eyes. If they’d had a different professor, <em> perhaps </em>she could have been persuaded to stay in the class for at least a full term or even the entire year, but, alas.</p><p>Hermione leaned against an empty table in the Restricted Section. “Do you need help finding anything, Luna?” she asked, watching with interest as the pale blonde skirted a fingertip over the spines of several books, humming lowly to herself. She still hadn’t turned to look at her. It was another two minutes until Luna pulled two books off another shelf and held them up for Hermione to look at. <em> Wizarding Triads in Practice </em> and <em> Unlocking the Potential of Sexual Magicks </em> stared her in the face. Flushing furiously, Hermione started sputtering, “I- er-” <em> holy shit</em>.</p><p>Luna tilted her head a bit to the side, blinking curiously at her. Hermione was struggling with <em> how </em> to respond, or if she even <em> should</em>. Clearly, this was not a sensitive matter to Luna, and all Hermione could hear in her head was Bellatrix Black calling her a prude. Clenching her jaw, she felt some perverse need to prove the Dark witch wrong, even if she wasn’t here to see it. Or... at least <em> try </em> to see this as another educational opportunity- and no matter what amount of stereotypical British prude she had in her, she had to admit to herself that the idea of <em> sex magic </em> was intriguing. She was no stranger to the ways Muggles enjoyed sex in various ways, nor was she unfamiliar with Muggle sex toys, having a few of her own hidden away, but sex <em> magic</em>? </p><p>“Would you like to help me peruse one of these, Hermione?” Luna asked. “I’m rather keen on <em> Triads</em>, because Hannah Abbot is as interested in Neville as I, and I am not averse to the notion of three. It is a rather prodigious number.”</p><p>Hermione blinked several times, her tongue as useless as her brain. Hannah, Neville, and Luna? <em> Together? </em> Oh, Merlin. Talk about House unity (minus a Slytherin). She managed to squeak out a <em> yes</em>, then grabbed the other book from Luna’s grip, letting her take <em> Wizarding Triads </em> for herself. It was only as they sat down together at the table side-by-side that Hermione thought to ask if there was anything in <em> particular </em>she should be searching for. Luna hummed and merely replied, “Anything of interest to you, and anything related to triads for me.”</p><p>She shouldn’t be in any way surprised at how nonchalantly Luna was acting about this. And Hermione wasn’t, not <em> really</em>- but for Luna to… “Er, Luna, have you spoken to either Neville or Hannah about this?”</p><p>Luna looked into her eyes and softly shook her head. “This is preparation, and even if they are not open to it… the knowledge is worth it regardless.” Oh, right. Ravenclaw. Knowledge for knowledge’s sake. She could understand that, having it to some degree in herself, though not in spades as she was certain Ravenclaws did. Hermione nodded and dropped any further lines of questioning, at least for the present- growth, she surmised, though the questions still pressed at the edge of her tongue, begging for release. She sighed softly and scanned the table of contents of <em> Unlocking the Potential of Sexual Magicks</em>, glad for this distraction however unconventional it was for her.</p><p>Well, if one thing was for certain, it was that Wizardkind went far further than Muggles could ever hope for. She easily spotted the potions and transfigurations section that delved into magic like what Bellatrix had talked about some time ago. There were spells to prevent someone from coming, to enhance sensations, unique usages for existing spells, and countless other spells for a variety of pleasures, but what interested Hermione the most was <em> synergia</em>. The moving diagrams left her face burning up, but she appreciated the multiple failsafes that prevented incompatible partners from finishing the ritual. No possibility of death or maiming from incompatibility, either, so she considered it a win/win situation for anyone interested in it and found her thoughts wandering to simply how common the practice was. Which was...</p><p>“Not too many try it,” Luna’s airy voice drifted by her ear. Only just repressing the instinct to immediately slam the book shut, her chest heaved with heavy breaths as she slowly turned her head to glance over at the younger witch. Luna, apparently used to such reactions, smiled softly at her and scooted her seat closer, pointing to the section on compatibility. “Most aren’t willing to risk the consequences if the ritual shows that they are incompatible. They don’t wish to have their beliefs contradicted.”</p><p>“Especially when it concerns the ones they love…” Hermione mused. She was a bit torn on it herself at first glance, but the results intrigued her- a melding of magic between two or more people, stronger together because of it, not to mention the entire backbone of the ritual’s conception was <em> vulnerability</em>, the truest expression of love. <em> ‘In the most intimate form of vulnerability shared,’ </em> the text read, <em> ‘multiple magicks synergise and meld as one shared, strengthening each mage’s magical core in the process, the compatible participants creating an inviolable connection.’ </em> She felt insanely warm simply visualising it and heat rushed through her, pooling between her legs, as her mind imagined <em> Narcissa </em> instead of Ron. Gods.</p><p>“I’ll mark it as viable in a triad relationship,” Luna murmured off to the side, her quill languidly scratching against parchment. Hermione blinked, then returned to the notes she’d taken, flipping back to the pages she had marked. There were several parts of the book that were compatible with triads, and she shared her notes with a rather appreciative Luna. Before she knew it, she felt soft lips pressed against her own, caressing yet still somehow decidedly chaste. She tentatively responded for a second or two and then Luna withdrew, aiming that disarmingly airy smile at her again.</p><p>“That was lovely,” Luna remarked. “Thank you for your help, Hermione.”</p><p>“Luna?” Hermione asked, her voice nearly a squeak as the Ravenclaw witch got to her feet, <em> Wizarding Triads </em> held in her arms. Why had she…? She wanted Neville and Hannah, not her. The kiss <em> had </em> been quite lovely, but she didn’t understand. She <em> needed </em>to understand. “Why did you…?”</p><p>With a gentle smile, Luna reached out and ran the back of her hand over Hermione’s cheekbone. “You’ve wanted to try, and in a different universe…” she hummed, pausing as if actually seeing into that other universe, “You are certainly a beautiful witch, Hermione Granger. You taste different from Ginny, but there are similarities.” Hermione stared wide-eyed as Luna started to walk away, and she vaguely heard Luna wonder to herself how Hannah might taste.</p><p>Licking her lips on impulse, Hermione had <em> not </em> expected that to be the way her first kiss with another woman went, but she found herself not regretting it. Sure, it hadn’t been romantically or sexually charged, but it had lingered at the edge of the line, a recognition of what could have been and a goodbye to the possibility. It had also been the last shred of evidence she’d ached for, to <em> know </em>that she did feel something from another woman’s lips on her own. Even if it had been a kiss between two friends who may have danced the line and crossed it in another world… it had felt better than Ron’s rather rough and still somewhat clumsy, controlling kisses. Even Viktor, who had been much more experienced than Ronald, couldn’t hold a candle to that kiss from Luna.</p><p><em> ‘You’ve wanted to try.’ </em> She’d been that obvious to Luna? Merlin, she would usually find that embarrassing, and for a moment she let that emotion roll through her as it wanted, but it made sense only because it was <em> Luna</em>. She was strange- no longer in a <em> bad </em>way as she had first thought of the other girl- but she was also incredibly perceptive of others. She could only assume that no one else had figured it out- Ginny, certainly, would have teased her endlessly over it if she had known about it.</p><p>She had to admit to herself that it was <em> ‘you taste different from Ginny’ </em> that had her mentally stupefied- she’d never thought that Ginny might… but it may have merely been girlish same-gender experimentation because that witch was <em> head over heels </em> for Harry Potter. Or she may simply like both genders, but prefer men- specifically Harry. She’d gleaned enough from <em> Sexual Magicks </em> to know that Wizarding society was far less uptight about same-gender relationships than the Muggle world that she had been raised in for the first eleven years of her life, even if pure-bloods were expected to at least marry and produce offspring from a heterosexual relationship first.</p><p>Given time to take in what had happened, Hermione idly scratched at the side of her head before pushing the seat back. Standing, she looked down at <em> Sexual Magicks</em>, wondering why Luna hadn’t taken it with her, too, but- <em> ‘anything of interest to you’</em>- oh, she… Luna had meant for <em> her </em>to borrow this book? Hermione had found plenty of interesting concepts and practices in it, but the sheer notion of going to Madam Pince to check the book out… She bit her tongue and reminded herself that she was, when it came down to it, like any other healthy nineteen-year-old woman with desires and she shouldn’t shame herself over it. Thankfully, Madam Pince said nothing about it, simply handed the book back into Hermione’s hands and wished her a good afternoon.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Her older sister groaned, the heels of her hands pressed against her shut eyes, rubbing slowly. “Narcissa…” When she took her hands away and opened them, Narcissa was still holding a set of teething rings for Teddy. That, and what looked like four other gifts as well. Narcissa was trying her best to not start giggling and was starting to fail quite spectacularly at it. Once she couldn’t hold back her laughter anymore, she levitated the gifts to sit on top of the kitchen table and clasped her hands over her mouth, <em> still </em> trying to not lose her decorum completely, but this was <em> Andy</em>, and Andy merely wrapped her in a tight hug and whispered, “You do know that I left that pure-blood society and don’t give a damn if you laugh freely, right, Cissa? No one to impress here, love.”</p><p>Narcissa nodded and let Andy pull her hands away from her mouth, letting herself laugh like she typically never did. In between fits of giggling she said, “You are aware that I already said I’d bring gifts every month until he’s a year old, right, Andy?”</p><p>“Of course, and I <em> am </em> grateful, but you don’t <em> have </em> to,” Andy offered her an out, but Narcissa had no plans to take it and made it known to her sister. The Ministry may have taken the vast majority of the Black and Malfoy fortunes, but she still had <em> enough </em> left to survive for a little over a year and then some. Mostly due to Harry Potter’s intervention, putting forth that she wouldn’t receive a salary from St. Mungo’s for a full year and still needed someplace to <em> live </em> as well as eat, among other necessities, which she had thanked him for- she owed quite a bit to that Boy-Who-Lived-Twice. Though more and more frequently she was grateful to him most for making friends with Hermione Granger, or else she may have never met the woman at all. And what a tragedy that would have been.</p><p>Teddy was far too young to understand that his auntie was thoroughly spoiling him, which seemed to make Andy more willing to allow Narcissa it. He eagerly got to work on his new teething rings, which were also imbued with healing and calming properties that settled the little one right down. From Andy’s tales, Muggle teethers weren’t imbued with <em> anything</em>, and Merlin she couldn’t imagine how difficult that had to be- Draco had been fussy enough as it had been when he was teething, and she owed her life to Thensil’s Toys and their vast collection of calming items for babies, toddlers, and children.</p><p>As the young wizard sat in a warded and baby-proof section of the sitting room still contentedly teething, Narcissa sat next to Andromeda, leaning slightly forward with her hands clasped together as she moved her gaze over several photographs on the mantle of the fireplace in front of them. Tonks, she’d been told, had actually gone out to Diagon with an old friend- Merula Snyde, specifically- so they had the place to themselves for the afternoon. Andy’s hand came to rest between her shoulder blades, rubbing back and forth gently.</p><p>“Ready for the divorce to finalise?” her sister asked quietly. “I’ve gotten my Healer’s satchel ready, extendable charm and all applied. Oh, and I’ve secured at least a week off from St. Mungo’s. No questions asked.” Narcissa turned to face Andy, softening at the comforting smile that shone on her sister’s face. Truth be told, she knew she’d get through it with Andy’s help- not just <em> anyone </em> became a certified Healer- but she worried that something unexpected could crop up, something she may have missed in the Malfoy marriage contract or something else she was forgetting. But Gemma had looked over <em> everything </em>several times, even twice in the mundane, extremely time-consuming Muggle way. She’d found nothing.</p><p>Narcissa inclined her head in appreciation. “Thank you again for… offering to take care of me. I know it won’t be easy, but do you think… if Hermione contacts me, could you handle it so she doesn’t see? I don’t want to worry her. I can prepare extra vials in case she has need of them.”</p><p>Andy stared at her unblinkingly a bit too long for her comfort, then moved forward to rest her forehead on Narcissa’s shoulder. “You…” her older sister started, raising an arm up to rest her hand on her other shoulder, “You really have it bad for that Gryffindor witch, don’t you?” Narcissa tensed, then sighed- “rather dramatically,” according to Andy. When Andromeda pulled back, she met those warm brown eyes with resolve.</p><p>“So what if I do?” she admitted with as much tenacity as she could muster, enunciating each and every word. She wanted to sound a bit cockier, a bit braver, a bit more like <em> Hermione</em>, but there were parts of her that were so completely Slytherin that she still felt the instinct to hold such things so close to her chest, even from Andy. But she said it anyway. Perhaps it could help her in the future. Andy, for all of the pure-blood decorum that had so clearly stayed with her all these years, lost it completely and barked out the most stunning laugh- Narcissa wasn’t even certain she’d ever <em> heard </em>Andromeda laugh like that before- as she simultaneously clapped both of her hands onto Narcissa’s shoulders.</p><p>“Oh,” Andy said joyously between bursts of laughter, “so she <em> finally, truly </em> admits it, how badly she fancies the Muggle-born witch! Oh Salazar, how I wish I’d been a betting woman and found someone to bet against.” Quirking an almost offended eyebrow, Narcissa waited for her sister to come back down to Earth.</p><p>“So, you definitely, <em> definitely </em> knew.”</p><p>“I’m your <em> sister</em>, Cissa, of <em> course </em> I knew.”</p><p>Narcissa fidgeted. “Well, Bella doesn’t. For certain. I don’t think?”</p><p>“You haven’t <em> tried </em> that hard to keep it hidden from me. Not that well, at least- if you were actually trying,” Andy said with a shrug of one her shoulders. “I’m sure you’ve done everything in your power to hide how you feel for that young woman from our older sister,” she assured, and Narcissa relaxed a bit into the cushion behind her, holding both hands over her face. She still wanted to vanish into nothingness, but her magic was intent on not complying with her simply by <em> wanting </em> it. Perhaps she didn’t want it badly enough, and Andy’s hand stroking her loosened blonde hair <em> was </em>comforting.</p><p>“I’ll do what I can to keep Hermione satisfied-”</p><p>Something rumbled deep within her chest and before she knew it she had just… practically, for all purposes, <em> growled </em>at Andy. What in the-? Narcissa clapped a hand over her mouth and stared wide-eyed at her equally confounded sister. “I- I-” she stammered, quite unlike herself.</p><p>Andy cocked an eyebrow, a corner of her mouth twitching up. “Satisfied with my <em> explanations</em>. My <em> handling </em> of it, so she doesn’t see you in such horrid states. By Merlin, Cissa, I love Hermione, but not like you do. Much rather have a wizard, myself… perhaps someday, again...” Narcissa reached out and pulled Andy into a hug, noticing the way her older sister’s voice cracked with rough emotion- it was clearly much, much too early for Andromeda to even <em> think </em>about another relationship. It would likely be another year or two, maybe more.</p><p>When they started to separate, though, Narcissa had to rethink her idea of comforting her sister, because Andy leaned in next to her ear and whispered, “I can’t promise that I’ll <em> leave </em> her satisfied, though, as even I am not immune to that young witch’s requests and Gryffindor nature, so if you wake and see her…”</p><p>“I’ll know exactly who I need to tell Nora to murder,” Narcissa then hissed into Andromeda’s ear. Andy only pulled back and chuckled.</p><p>“Now, are you <em> sure </em> that our dear Mrs. Zabini would murder a <em> witch</em>?”</p><p>“Would you care to find out, dear Andy?”</p><p>Oh, how she<em> loved </em> making Andromeda pout so.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>For so many years, the Gryffindor common room had been something of a safe haven for her as well as the boys. Though part of her missed their presence in the room, Hermione had to admit to herself that she was able to concentrate better without their discussions on Quidditch, other Wizarding games, what they’d had for supper that evening, what their plans were for the next Hogsmeade weekend, and most of all- she did <em> not </em>miss their questions about assignments and essays for the lessons that they shared together.</p><p>
  <em> ‘Hermione, you finished Binn’s essay? Was wondering if I could borrow your notes…’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ‘Could you look over this introduction paragraph for me, Hermione?’ </em>
</p><p>She wondered if either of them would have passed each school year without her help, honestly. Looking back, she knew she’d coddled the two boys far too much, but she’d wanted friends so desperately in first year and after everything they went through together, she simply couldn’t say no to them most of the time. Sure, she’d show her exasperation and try (sometimes succeeding) in getting them to care more about their own work- which had mostly worked on Harry- but she fell into the ‘mothering friend’ role so quickly that it came to her easily, knowing it like the back of her hand.</p><p>So to have a section of the common room all to herself now, aided with a few simple wards that allowed some measure of privacy, was more refreshing than she’d particularly care to admit. She’d settled down with her satchel laid upon the other side of the small, round table and pulled out her arithmancy textbook, preparing to start on a parchment packet, grateful for N.E.W.T.-level distractions. Professor Vector hadn’t given them any hints as to which charts to use to solve the arithmantic sets, but <em> had </em> hinted that runes would come in handy as well as regular Latin script- Hermione surmised that this was why her class was so small by seventh year, now that they were combining regular and irregular numbers with runes and the alphabet. It didn’t feel <em> that </em> much different than Muggle calculus, which she’d taken some time to study while on the run with Harry and Ron, but it was infinitely more interesting with the addition of magic.</p><p>After several minutes she’d selected a few charts that seemed promising, noting the time- she’d gone down to the Great Hall earlier for supper with Ginny and Luna while noticing Neville sitting at the Hufflepuff table with Hannah Abbott, both of them sneaking glances towards the back of Luna’s head- and realised it was growing close to eight o’clock. She and Narcissa hadn’t specified an exact time but figured if she wasn’t in her quarters at the top of the Gryffindor girls’ dormitories by now, she could Floo call into Malfoy Manor and invite her. Or… she could simply let the other witch forget what she’d seen last night. But no, that was wishful thinking- she could distract herself all she’d like, but Narcissa forgetting? An entirely laughable concept to even consider.</p><p>Something jostled her wards. Snapping her head up, she saw a flash of red hair, then-</p><p>“Hermione?” Ron said, his tone urgent, eyes blazing with something… something worrying as he broke through. Oh. <em> Friends</em>. She’d allowed anyone considered a friend access to come through. Well, at least they were still at that level, even if-</p><p>She swallowed thickly, watching as the red-headed wizard clasped his hands in front of himself and muttered, “Wish you remembered the plan to meet as much as your bloody work. Was waiting for an owl for...” He scratched at his nose, then said in a stronger voice, “I don’t have long, but can we talk about… us? I know what you said, but, <em> Hermione</em>-”</p><p>Grumbling, she cast to shove all of her materials into her satchel, motioning for him to follow her up to her quarters. The stairs started to shift into smooth stone as soon as Ron set his foot on the first step, but she’d asked Professor McGonagall how to get around it, saying she only expected two, <em> maybe </em> three men to ever set foot in her quarters, and that she’d make sure they <em> only </em> were in hers. Thanks to the Scottish witch’s unwavering trust in her, she now knew the counterspell. Casting it, Ron was able to follow her up, though, “For Merlin’s sake, Ronald, can you <em> please </em>keep your mouth shut until we’re-”</p><p>Ron rushed around her, somewhere between the sixth and seventh-year girls’ dormitory rooms, and hissed out, “Why were you writing to <em> Harry </em> and not me? Don’t tell me you fancy him, you <em> know </em>he and Ginny are-”</p><p>“I’m well aware, Ron. Harry’s like a <em> brother </em> to me- honestly, I thought we’d all been over this before. But you- by Godric’s graces, let me <em> through</em>.” She crossed her arms and waited for him to move aside. She would <em> not </em>resort to anything physical unless it was to defend herself from now on. Ron looked down at their feet for a moment, mumbling something incoherent, but stepped aside for her. She led them to the top of the girls’ tower, wordlessly unlocking the door to her quarters.</p><p>As she opened the door, Ron at her heels, a voice rang out in the direction of the centre of the room. “Oh, you’re here! Do remind me to properly schedule our me-” the voice abruptly cut off at the sight of- oh, okay, Ronald was gaping, an<em> exceptionally </em> rude look on his face as he snapped his jaw shut with an audible click.</p><p>“What is <em> she </em>doing here, Hermione?” Ron asked, gesturing towards Narcissa with an accusing hand, his arm outstretched. Hermione sighed, resting a hand against her brow, and tiredly said, “She’s here to discuss something related to- to Bellatrix, Ron. I allowed her access to my Floo Network-connected fireplace,” she motioned to the hearth, “over there. And stop it with that tone, will you? She’s not an enemy, she’s-”</p><p>Ron was visibly restraining himself from boiling over by the way he was trembling, fingers curled up into fists. “She’s doing reparations, I <em> know</em>, the Ministry has an entire sodding file on her.” Merlin, his face was reddening. “So, you’ll… you’ll allow a bloody <em> Malfoy </em> access, but I’ve heard <em> nothing </em> about access through the Burrow, and you <em> know </em> I’m there sometimes, it's been in my letters! And I know you’ve got to- to <em> work </em> with her somehow, for this Black shite, but she’s- she’s sitting there like you’re... you’re <em> best mates </em>or something, ‘Mione!”</p><p>She turned her attention towards Narcissa for a couple of moments, taking in how the other witch was casually sitting on the edge of her bed petting Crookshanks, clearly trying to give them space without offending the half-Kneazle on her lap. She noticed the witch’s free hand barely twitching against its slight grip on her cover, though. Hermione breathed in, rubbing at her temples, then jerkily gestured towards the balcony, hoping to spare Narcissa the rest of this discussion that she was going to try her <em> damnedest </em> to not turn into anything more than a heated discussion. Granted, both of them were headstrong Gryffindors, so she wasn’t entirely sure of a good success rate, but she had to <em> try</em>. Try and salvage <em> something </em> here before it blew up in their faces.</p><p>Once they were outside she flicked her wand towards the French doors then turned to Ron again once they were shut. He was… pacing the length of the balcony. Godric, the energy that man had. She swallowed, closing the distance between them, and put what she hoped was a steadying hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, deep blue eyes blazing, and she said, “Ron, if you’d asked, I could have talked to Professor McGonagall about access, but you know you…” She shook her head. “We’re getting off the topic of why you came here. I- I know you want to try and stop me from wanting to take a break from us, but-”</p><p>“But I deserve a bloody <em> explanation</em>, Hermione!” he exclaimed, violently removing himself from her hold on his shoulder. “For- for why it didn’t <em> work </em> at Bowtruckle’s, for starters. Did I do something wrong? I was only with one other witch before you, y’know, I-” he gripped at the bannister tightly, his knuckles white, “I know I’ll cock-up sometimes, but I can’t always <em> see </em>how if you don’t say anything!”</p><p>She gripped the bridge of her nose with her fingers and sighed, realising there was some truth in his words. “We- we’ve both, as you put it, done a right ‘cock-up’ of things. You’ve been gone-”</p><p>“Because I’m a bloody Auror, Hermione!” Ron sharply interjected, turning around to glare at her, his face somehow even redder than before. “I’m out there risking my life to put Death Eaters like that bloody Black witch away, you know!”</p><p>Groaning, she went on, “I <em> know, </em> Ron. And you and Harry are excellent at it from everything I've heard. But you-” her voice wavered and she gripped the fabric of her school robes, suddenly feeling very small in them compared to Ron in his Auror garb, like she was still a <em> child </em> despite being essentially a year older than him at this point, considering the amount of time she spent using the Time-Turner. “There’s an imbalance to- to this, and I don’t…  I’ve realised that I’m not <em> attracted </em>to you like I- I should be, or… I don’t want to keep up this bloody farce, Ronald! I love you, like- like a friend, but-”</p><p>“Imbalance?” Ron said, his voice taking on a dangerously softer tone, like ice on a pond gradually chipping as someone skates over it. “But I’ve only been doing what I’ve seen from my parents, Hermione. Mum takes care of my dad, he provides, and-” He cut himself off, glaring at her again. “Are you saying there’s an <em> imbalance </em> to my parents’ relationship? Because I’ll have you know, they’ve raised <em> seven </em> children! Who else could be a better relationship example to follow?”</p><p>Hermione bit the inside of her lip and instinctively started to back up towards the side of the balcony. She used to be stronger than this. Ron wasn’t Bellatrix, Ron wouldn’t- she cleared her throat and forced herself to stop backing up. “Ron, I- I don’t mean to offend- but you can’t have seen <em> every </em> bit of your parents’ relationship, and- and maybe we just want different things, maybe-” her breath caught in her throat and she covered her mouth with a hand. He’d misunderstood her, while at the same time brought out another point of incompatibility- she didn’t <em> want </em> to be the second version of Molly Weasley. She admired the woman in a way, but she had faults, same with Mr. Weasley. But to Ron family was <em> everything</em>, especially his own by blood. He’d made that clear when he’d left them during the Horcrux hunt, and she thought he’d grown since then, and he <em> had</em>, but setbacks were a real thing.</p><p>“So- this is it, then? We’re- we’re breaking up?” Ron asked with spots of venom in his tone. Hermione met his eyes, shut hers for a moment, then as she looked at him again she firmly nodded. She needed this resolution. This clean, or as clean as could be, break. They both did, but- “I still- still want to be friends, Ron, if we can-”</p><p>Ron held an open hand up and she halted her words, biting down on her tongue in the process. She- she still had more she needed to say, but-</p><p>“Not now, Hermione. Give me- give me some time, all right? Maybe you’re right, maybe we want different things. Maybe we… fuck if I know,” he said, almost sounding defeated now. He scuffed the soles of his boots against the ground, looking almost like his first-year self again. She rubbed both her hands through her hair, destroying any semblance of ever taming it with magic. He was actually being… well, not <em> as </em> much of a prat as he had been when he’d left her and Harry last year. <em> ‘Give me some time.’ </em></p><p>She nodded. “We both need some time. But- I didn’t mean what you thought I did, by imbalance. It’s there…” she dug her nails into her palm, thinking back to how much of herself she’d seen in how she’d spoken about Draco and Narcissa, “even as friends. You’ve never asked me how things are going with Bellatrix in our letters, never really asked much at all. And I didn’t-”</p><p>But he interrupted her <em> again</em>. “How was I supposed to-”</p><p>“Ronald Bilius <em> Weasley</em>, will you please let me <em> finish</em>!?” she yelled, stomping closer towards him, gesticulating with her hands as she continued, “And I didn’t <em> tell </em> you, because- because maybe I <em> am </em> used to acting like your mum and <em> mothering </em> you and Harry all these years! And that’s not- it’s not conducive for a relationship, always giving and never- never quite receiving...” She felt her shoulders slump and she heaved a tired sigh. “It’s not even proper for a... a good friendship. I’m sorry for raising my voice, but…”</p><p>She looked up towards him apprehensively, watching as he blinked down at her as if truly seeing her for the first time. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, then clenched his jaw. “At least you haven’t hit me like you did once I got back to you and Harry.”</p><p>Wincing, she apologised profusely to him yet again, but he only squared his jaw and- oh, he was on the defensive, shielding himself. Trying to not lose it. To maybe, just maybe consider her side, she hoped. He ran a hand over his pained face and groaned.</p><p>“I still need time, Hermione,” he finally said. “Give me that, please.” His voice was measured, strained, held back but just barely so. “A month or so.”</p><p>With that, he opened the door to her quarters, took one last look at Narcissa, and left the way he came before she could re-apply the spell on the steps, so she heard his scream as he slid down the circular staircase. She’d laugh if she weren’t so… so heartbroken, was the only way she could describe it to herself. It was as she walked back into her quarters and spotted Narcissa still there, still petting Crookshanks, that she felt her face crumple up. She just did catch a glimpse of the other witch ever so unceremoniously remove the half-Kneazle from her lap before she was suddenly enveloped in comforting arms, holding her tightly, letting her rest her weight against someone so solid, so there for her in ways that Ronald wasn’t, never had been, and it only made her cry harder.</p><p>Narcissa held her for what felt like several minutes until she started to properly calm down. “If you should require an assassination plot, I know precisely the right Slytherin for it, darling,” the older woman murmured against the shell of Hermione’s ear. Despite everything, Hermione started to giggle through her tears, her chest shaking from an entirely different emotion. Her fingers grasped more firmly at the back of Narcissa’s robes, and she breathed in the calming lavender scent that clung to the older witch. After a few more moments, she pulled back from the embrace and gave Narcissa a watery smile.</p><p>Voice still rough, she said, “I’ll keep your connections in mind, Narcissa.” After clearing her throat and wiping at her eyes again, sniffling, she was faced with a handkerchief extended towards her, held between Narcissa’s thumb and forefinger. The blonde pushed it closer, and Hermione tentatively took it, questioning eyes meeting warm yet concerned blue ones. “I have plenty, Hermione. They will make it appear as if you weren’t crying at all, and they are self-cleansing. <em> Extremely </em> useful for social occasions when one needs a quick cry in the ladies’ room,” she half-drawled, her lips twitching into a small smile. “You will need to cast your own silencing charms, though.” And then Narcissa winked at her. <em> Winked</em>. Yet again. This was-</p><p>Okay, okay, this was fine. Completely fine. Not troublesome at all for her health. She almost grabbed the handkerchief from her, but then caught some measure of control over herself and gingerly took it, wiping her eyes and- and oh, that was good, there was no noise when she blew her nose, saving her any other embarrassment over bodily excretions. Merlin. She was flushed from everything, and she started to laugh as she folded up the handkerchief, placing it in a robe pocket before taking Narcissa’s hand and leading her over to the sofa in front of her fireplace. Narcissa brought a free hand to Hermione’s cheek as they sat down on the crimson-coloured sofa, drawing her out of breathless laughter.</p><p>Brought to silence, the brunette flitted her eyes to meet Narcissa’s, sucking in a breath at the tenderness of her touch. Blinking, she wet her lips and watched as Narcissa’s eyes inexplicably darkened, and the touch was gone as the blonde averted her eyes, coughing daintily into her other hand. Hermione was sitting near Narcissa but gave just enough space while she focused on straightening out her school skirt and robes. She wasn’t entirely sure how to start talking, whether they were going to approach or ignore the Weasley-shaped elephant in the room when Narcissa’s hand upon her own that still rested on her skirt-covered thigh brought her out of her wandering thoughts.</p><p>“We- I-” she started, “We broke up. Ron and I, I mean.”</p><p>Narcissa made a humming noise, and chancing a look at her out of her peripheral vision towards the other woman, Hermione took a breath and continued.</p><p>“He told me he needs time. I- I followed your advice, and remembered what I said about Draco, how it… also applies to me, and spoke as much of the truth as possible.” She exhaled softly and rubbed at the space between her eyebrows, feeling a headache coming on. “I told him I’ve been acting like a <em> mum </em> to him and Harry, that there’s… this- this <em> imbalance </em>even in our friendship. He’s still immature and insecure about things, misunderstanding what I was trying to say and thinking I was talking badly about his parents’ marriage. I don’t- I don’t know if I’ll be able to salvage a friendship with him. But I did at least tell him that I’m not attracted to him like I should be.”</p><p>“... Should be?” Narcissa questioned. “Hermione, you aren’t… forgive me for bringing blood status into this, but you are not a pure-blood entered into an arranged marriage. ‘Should be’ should not factor into your choice for a partner.” At the logic of Narcissa’s words, Hermione grimaced and slid a hand down one side of her face. Merlin, she really didn’t want to explain- but she should, shouldn’t she? Narcissa couldn’t know, being a pure-blood.</p><p>“Narcissa…” she started, shifting in her seat uncomfortably, “The Muggle world doesn’t look so kindly upon anything but different-gender relationships. I... I suppose I’ve been a bit ‘stuck’ in that way of thinking, growing up as a Muggle. Thinking I… that I <em> should </em>be attracted to Ron because aesthetically, I can admit he has nice features-”</p><p>“If you are fond of ginger hair and freckles, that is,” Narcissa teased. “Dare I ask if you were ever attracted to the Weasleys’ daughter?”</p><p>Hermione shot a hard look in Narcissa’s direction and groaned- she did <em> not </em> need to add another witch to her list of “Witches Who’ve Made Me Question My Sexuality,” now did she? Instead of answering, she huffed and went on, “As I was <em> saying</em>, I was thinking that I should be attracted to him, not only because of his features- I focused on his ginger hair a lot, thinking back- but because he’s a wizard. And it only makes sense, yes? A witch and a wizard together? Told myself it’s natural, we’ve been mates since after Halloween 1991, and he… underneath everything, he’s got a good heart. He just- he needs to grow up some more, but I… even when he does, I’ve realised, no matter his features, we’re still incompatible on several levels, and he’s rather… hard.” She drew her lips into a straight line and put her feet up on the coffee table, crossing one leg over the other, knowing she wasn’t using exactly the right words, but the words tumbled out of her mouth regardless- “His…” Hermione gestured over herself lamely, “his <em> body</em>, I suppose. In a way.”</p><p>“Wizards typically are, Hermione,” Narcissa said. “But I do understand. Would you say that you have found yourself drawn more to the ‘fairer sex,’ as they typically call it?” Hermione half-snorted at the phrase. “Do entertain my question and answer honestly. I only wish to help, darling. My dormmates and I had many discussions over this very topic during my time at Hogwarts- it is not new to me. We only had to… entertain such desires as only within the realm of carefully constructed extramarital affairs. If our...” but she tapered off.</p><p>At this admission, Hermione snapped her head up, blushing furiously as she tried to imagine a younger Narcissa, like the one in that photograph she’d found at Grimmauld Place (and that she did <em> not</em>, under any circumstances, look at sometimes when pleasuring herself, nope, no way), making girl talk about <em> sexuality </em>with the other Slytherin witches who had shared a dormitory with her. She opened and closed her mouth a few times before she cleared her throat and said, “You know about Luna. I… began to think of her in a more than friendly way during our time spent searching for the Horcruxes-” -Narcissa flinched at the utterance of such Dark magic and Hermione lifted a brow- “I assume you heard about them from Harry or Draco?” Narcissa nodded, saying nothing more. “Right, but… living with those boys for months on end, Merlin, I took for granted living in the girls’ dormitory here. I found myself more than simply missing the company of other witches. It started that way, but then… well, it developed into more.”</p><p>“You were lonely, and had the time to think things over,” Narcissa said softly. Hermione swallowed thickly, inclining her head.</p><p>“And more. I could have sought something with Ron then, but I didn’t. I kept telling myself it was because I didn’t want to make Harry feel like… like an outsider? Which was partially true, and we needed to focus on the mission, but my thoughts kept drifting to other witches like Luna, instead of wizards. I tried. I <em> tried </em> with Ron, and for a while fooled even myself when he was at his most caring. But I- I <em> can’t</em>, Narcissa. I want to try and salvage a friendship, but I don’t know if he’ll…” she trailed off, covering her face with her hands, elbows resting on her thighs.</p><p>Narcissa wrapped an arm around her and moved closer, drawing her to her side as she soothingly rubbed her hand over Hermione’s upper arm. “If he has any sense, I’m sure Mr. Weasley will want to stay friends. With what you have said, I am certain that you gave him plenty to mull over.”</p><p>Resting her hands on her lap, Hermione grasped at her robes. “He’ll probably tell Harry and Ginny right away. Or soon. I- I should go talk to Ginny, at least-” she started to get up, only to feel a hand clasping around her sleeve. She turned towards Narcissa, eyes widening as she took in the way the woman was pointedly staring at her, then flitting her gaze back towards the cushion. “Okay, okay, I get it,” she half-heartedly groused, sitting back down. “No need to put a sticking charm on me. I’ll stay.”</p><p>“Good girl,” Narcissa praised, slightly smiling. And <em> oh </em>did that do things to her, overachiever that she was. Hermione controlled her flush successfully, but only by redirecting her thoughts to the previous night. “Now, how would you like to discuss what happened that Bella informed me of? Please do not downplay it, either, because I was fully aware of Bella’s reaction as well as yours, Hermione.”</p><p>How would she like to discuss… ah, she had the choice... to pull the memory from herself instead of forcing herself to sit here and talk about it? But she didn’t have a Pensieve. If she did, she’d consider it… it might be easier, would <em> definitely </em>be more accurate. But she didn’t have anything to view it in.</p><p>“I- I don’t have a Pensieve, Narcissa.”</p><p>The other witch waved a hand, dismissing it as a non-issue with, “but Black Manor <em> does</em>. Is that how you want to revisit the event? Or… events? It’s your choice.” Hermione clenched her jaw, then relaxed it and nodded. “Come then, darling,” and Narcissa held a hand out to her after standing from the sofa. She took it, and with a pinch of Floo powder Narcissa left for the manor first, with Hermione shortly following after securing her quarters with a few spells, as well as a letter addressed for Ginny’s eyes only if she decided to visit, left on the outside of her door.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hermione and narcissa view the memory from the griffin's nest, a birthday gift is shared, bella admits to knowing more than she had previously let on, and the dissolvement of narcissa's marriage to lucius begins.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks so much for the comments on the last chapter, they were lovely to read- i unfortunately didn't have the capacity to properly respond to any this time, but they are (as always) very much appreciated, as are kudos, bookmarks, etc. 💛 instead, i did direct the capacity for writing i *have* had in spurts to finish another draft of a future chapter (we in the 20s now! and i'm not talking about the decade lol) and get through the majority of the draft after that one, so the backlog is still trucking along albeit at a *bit* of a slower pace currently. :-)</p><p>and a big thanks again to Erin26_94 for beta reading! 💛</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> Focus on the parts of the memory you wish to share. Thread them together as a cohesive story, allowing the puffs of smoke to carry you from one drifting memory to the next. </em>She repeated the words to herself that she’d read from a tome on Pensieve magic- another subject that Hogwarts had yet to cover during her years there. This magic wasn’t completely off base from the memory magic performed on her parents and was, as far as she knew, much easier and with no risk to her memory. She would merely make a copy of her memory, pull it from her temple, and deposit it in the House of Black’s Pensieve. Still, she fiddled with her fingers as she followed Narcissa to a sequestered room off the main House of Black library.</p><p>Narcissa stopped at the closed door, turning with her wand held slightly up. With an apologetic look, the witch explained that she needed to slice small cuts into their forefingers, then, “you must lay your wound on mine for a moment so that when I place mine on the door, it will accept you inside. We will not be bonded by this blood magic, I promise you that, Hermione. If it could be done any other way… But as you are not a Black, even through that…” Narcissa gestured to Hermione’s left forearm.</p><p>Gritting her teeth, Hermione merely nodded and stretched out the palm of her right hand, watching as Narcissa first cast a small slicing hex on her own forefinger, then with a slight grimace turned her wand towards her. Narcissa’s free hand, save for the injured finger, gently grasped Hermione’s and with the tiniest motion from her wand, a small cut appeared on her finger. Smaller than the one Narcissa had made on herself. It hardly even stung. She raised the cut to take a closer look at the small bead of blood, then extended the finger to Narcissa’s wound, pressing just enough to mingle their blood.</p><p>As soon as she pulled her finger away Narcissa cast a healing spell, instantly closing up the cut as if it never happened. Hermione smiled, uttering a soft word of thanks to which Narcissa hummed in response while she laid her left hand upon the smooth wooden door. The door glowed a deep red around her injured hand, spreading slowly outward until she heard a clicking sound. It opened inward, and Narcissa reached for her hand. She gladly took it, but once they were inside asked why she hadn’t healed herself yet. Narcissa smiled ruefully.</p><p>“I knew you would ask that,” she admitted, slowly shaking her head. “To leave after viewing any memories I must utilise the same method, though without another cut to the guest’s flesh. It would be terribly rude to ask that of someone visiting, even for this family.” Hermione pressed fingertips against her face, eyes shutting as she told herself it wasn’t <em> that </em>bad. Merely a cut on the finger. But still.</p><p>“I’m healing you the moment we’re out of here, Narcissa,” she said, leaving no room for disagreement in her adamant tone. She watched and almost chuckled at the sight of Narcissa casually shrugging, accepting.</p><p>The Pensieve was an intricate stone basin marked completely in runes, some of which Hermione understood but still many that she couldn’t fully comprehend. Likely specific to the creation of a Pensieve’s functionality. She raised her head slightly, watching the silvery pool and mist that floated above, then scanned the darkened room only to see vials of memories piled high in labelled storage units that she could only liken to what a honeycomb looked like. Honeycomb memory shelves. She only spared them a moment, though, and quickly redirected her attention to Narcissa as the woman murmured spells that she explained would open the Pensieve to guest memories for thirty minutes.</p><p>Narcissa turned to her. “I presume you have yet to extract a memory into a Pensieve?”</p><p>Hermione rolled the hilt of her wand in between her fingers. “Correct, but I’ve read the theory behind the practice. Considering the memory magic I… that I performed on my parents, I don’t think this will prove too difficult.” She tried to give a self-deprecating smile, but it turned out more strained and sorrowful if Narcissa reaching out to soothingly touch her on the arm for a moment said anything. “I’ll give it a go and hope for the best.”</p><p><em> Hope</em>. Yeah, she was going to need a lot of that in reserves. She lifted her wand to her left temple and shut her eyes, focusing on the arrival to the club- the name of it sticking out like a sore finger, then she melded that arrival to the memory of taking their drinks, riding with Ron towards the destination until she left him in the elevator, taking in the library, threading every memory together so discordancy disappeared. She flickered, faltering a bit as she skipped past the portion of her time spent with Narcissa’s countenance, but from then on it was… well, as smooth sailing as it could be. She ended the recollection, the copy, as she and Luna sat down together at the edge of the library, where shelves ended and transitioned into that beautiful, calming English seaside. As she opened her eyes and tugged on her wand, she felt it like a heavy string gently pulled from her mind and watched in fascination as the silvery mist clung to the tip of the vine wood.</p><p>“I am sorry that this has to be your first time, but still… to accomplish this, on your first attempt, too…” she heard from her right side. With the memory still attached to her wand, Hermione turned her head and saw Narcissa smiling just a little, hardly even noticeable as her hands steepled against her lips. It was contagious, though, and it helped her more than she could express after having to thread together a memory she would rather entirely forget. She wanted to watch <em> this </em>memory, this one of Narcissa unfolding right here and right now, over and over again, and knew that honestly? She wanted to create a collection of her memories with Narcissa. But she was getting ahead of herself.</p><p>Extending her wand just over the edge of the Pensieve, she tapped it against the rim and watched as the memory dropped into the basin, spinning within as a silvery-white substance until finally it settled, revealing a blurred image that she could only barely make out as the beginning of the memory. Without thinking, she reached and took hold of Narcissa’s uninjured hand, and they approached the basin together. The last thing she remembered before dipping her head in alongside Narcissa was the other woman squeezing her hand tightly. Reassurance that she wasn’t going in alone.</p><p>
  <em> The edges of the memory were tinged with a silvery-white smoke. She and Narcissa still held hands here, and so long as Narcissa didn’t let go, neither would she. The memory played out before her as if she were having an out-of-body experience. Watching herself enter the Griffin’s Nest with her friends. Not knowing what was coming. She shivered. </em>
</p><p><em> “Oh, I’ve visited here before with… my sisters. And Lucius,” Narcissa commented as if she knew Hermione needed the momentary distraction. She quieted after, and Hermione stole glances at her out of her peripheral vision every so often. She felt her slightly squeeze their hands during certain moments with Ron, and if she knew it wasn’t her sensing things that weren’t really </em> there<em>, she might have said Narcissa seemed to react to Ron’s intended romantic actions towards her. She shook herself of that line of thinking.  </em></p><p>
  <em> As the memory of herself ventured into the library, she was glad to see that it managed to capture the voice of the bond as it first spoke to her. She’d thought it was an internal voice… but it echoed about the memory of the library here. </em>
</p><p>‘Shut up.’</p><p>“What?”</p><p>‘That Weasley boy isn’t your bonded. Let me show you...’</p><p>
  <em> But she didn’t manage to get the memories that it showed her- if that was even possible, she didn’t know. She explained them quickly to Narcissa, saying she could write them down after if wanted. At the mention of her older sister protecting her from their mother, a pained, conflicted look crossed Narcissa’s face. She… she couldn’t imagine having someone like Bellatrix for a sister. Hermione herself held next to no conflicting feelings about the Dark witch- even though she was Narcissa’s older sister, she couldn’t just simply forgive her, and a part of her felt Narcissa understood, even if they’d never spoken of it. But Narcissa had known Bellatrix since the older witch was… what? Six years old or so, if Narcissa had memories from when she was about two years old? The things the blonde woman had to have seen, grown up around. Though for good reason, Andromeda had still left the family, and Bellatrix had stayed, leaving Narcissa with... </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh. The memory was shifting again, threading through, and where she’d faltered in extracting the memory as intended- a bit of the encounter with Narcissa’s countenance appeared. Thankfully, the pieces of imagery were blurred enough, but. Still. She tried to surreptitiously eye Narcissa, search for any sign of comprehension, but the other woman’s features had morphed back into that unreadable mask. Hermione wasn’t sure what to make of that, but soon the memory shifted again through puffs of smoke, and here they were. It was more than disturbing, seeing this happen as an outside observer when she’d been the one experiencing it not even a full twenty-four hours ago. </em>
</p><p><em> As the memory of Bellatrix’s countenance, of the </em> bond<em>, starting to verbally express its desire for a sexual connection, Hermione felt Narcissa’s magic flare angrily beside her before she leaned towards her ear. “Tell me if you wish to leave. You don’t have to stay.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Hermione meant to only turn for a split second, shaking her head, but swallowed down her pride and inched closer. She let go of Narcissa’s hand, knowing what was coming, murmuring to the woman, “I- I’ll stay, but I- I don’t want to see-” and before she could finish verbalising it, Narcissa gathered her to her body, arms wrapping around her so that Hermione was no longer facing the memory as bond-Bellatrix continued harassing her. She heard herself talking back to the countenance, and Narcissa only held her more securely, rubbing at her back in soothing motions as she continued to watch the memory. She could practically hear another heart beside her own beating loudly. Hermione wondered if Narcissa could feel her heart as it lurched. </em>
</p><p><em> Though she was kept her from seeing the memory, she could still </em> hear <em> it. She heard her own gasp and cry, and it was as if she could feel those fingers dipping underneath her waistband again, reaching down to the soft brown curls above her sex. Narcissa squeezed her so tightly that for a moment she wondered if she’d have to gasp out that she still needed to </em> breathe<em>, but then Luna was there and Narcissa’s grip around her slackened. She heard a soft explosion and pulled away, turning just in time to see the remnants of bond-Bellatrix disappear. She didn’t move away from where she stood slightly in front of Narcissa, and she heard her ask if she could hold her like this now. Narcissa was- she was taking into consideration what she’d just seen the bond do, and- </em></p><p><em> “I- yes, it… it helps, Narcissa,” she admitted softly, and felt a warm body press up against her back before arms wrapped loosely around her, as if still seeking permission. Hermione leaned back, giving it, and she heard a soft sigh as much as she felt the other witch’s chest rise and fall. Narcissa’s grip tightened a bit, arms resting along Hermione’s midsection. She brought her own hands up to touch, to provide reassurance. To reiterate that this was a touch she </em> wanted<em>. It was </em> nothing <em> like what happened in this memory. She found herself gradually relaxing further as they both watched the memory conclude as the past version of herself and Luna settled at the edge of the sea. The memory began to disappear in small puffs of smoke, and they were ejected. </em></p><p>Hermione gasped for air as she pulled her face from the Pensieve, and the experience was so jarring she half-expected her face to drip with some sort of liquid, but it was dry just as the texts had said. Magic, of course. So focused on getting herself together, she hardly registered it as Narcissa pulled the memory from the Pensieve, stored it in a vial, and handed it to her. Her trembling fingers wrapped around the corked vial on instinct, like she was some sort of robot- something her brain briefly recognised as ‘something Narcissa wouldn’t know a thing about’- and still on some kind of automatic functioning, she placed it inside of her robes. What she did register, though, was Narcissa’s body coming close, then her head dipping just so to… place a kiss on her forehead, much like how Luna had done. But. Different.</p><p>Eyes widening by a fraction, Hermione tilted her head up to meet Narcissa’s, some spot of mischief and care combined within the pale blue. “There you are,” the witch said, her voice soft, steadying her. “Let’s leave this room, darling.” She nodded, glancing at the coagulated wound on the pad of Narcissa’s forefinger before the woman opened it up again, pressing it to the door. As soon as the door shut behind them, Hermione gingerly took Narcissa’s injured hand in her own, raising her wand to cast a healing spell that would close the wound as if it had never happened. Once she’d applied it to the skin, she sent her wand to its sheath then clasped the previously injured hand between hers, gently rubbing it in appreciation. And it simply felt good to hold Narcissa’s hand, but she wasn’t going to say that.</p><p>Though she assumed Narcissa knew it anyway, by the way she put her wand away before placing her right hand over one of Hermione’s. “You did so well,” she murmured, and Hermione shut her eyes, tears pricking at the edges. She breathed in, then upon releasing her hands said, “You helped, you know. I- I wouldn’t have been able to view that memory on my own, and even then…” her breath caught at the back of her throat. Narcissa wrapped an arm around her and led them to a secluded reading alcove, settling them both on the small wrap-around settee.</p><p>It was so quiet here that she heard Narcissa’s breaths like they were wrapped around each other. They sat side-by-side, but they weren’t… weren’t <em> that </em> close. Just as she was about to question it, Narcissa patted her knee almost awkwardly, something that spoke more than any words that could tumble out of the other witch’s mouth. Or she thought so, as Narcissa explained the warding of the alcove, but then she immediately segued into, “I am so, <em> so </em>close to finalising the suppressant potion for you. For… for the both of you,” she amended. “I acquired the final ingredient, golden motes that clung about your heads and in your hair while you both slept upstairs.” Hermione remembered that visit, remembered waking to see Narcissa, the sensations she’d not ever quite felt before as Narcissa had healed the crick in her neck.</p><p>“I’ll finish it before this week closes. I will make sure of it,” Narcissa continued, determination in her face and her voice, and all Hermione could do was watch the woman with her mouth slightly agape, blinking slowly. Determination, though, couldn’t completely cover up the trembling of the witch’s hands, and Hermione reached out, taking them. Before Narcissa could start in on it, what she saw clearly as guilt bubbling to the surface, she surged forward and hugged her, “Don’t push yourself too much, Narcissa. And don’t… None of what you saw in the Pensieve was your fault.” Narcissa’s breath hitched and she grasped the woman’s robes tighter. “Yes, I don’t need to be a <em> Legilimens </em>to put two and two together.” The woman let out a wet laugh, and Hermione felt her heart soar- good, she was making her feel better. She needed to understand that even if she didn’t get the suppressant made before her divorce went through, that was okay.</p><p>“It’s not as if I’ll be going anywhere else that would have such an effect on this ruddy blood bond again, so it shouldn’t act up as it did there,” she tried to reassure Narcissa but instead saw newfound resolve in her eyes as she pulled away just enough to look Hermione in the eye.</p><p>A hand came up to rest over her cheek. “It might not to such a dangerous degree, but it <em> will </em>increasingly grow stronger, more persistent. Do believe me when I say I was already close before viewing your memories, and this?” Another slightly wet laugh. “This has only reinvigorated me, and you, my darling, do not want to get in my way when I am like this. I’ll send you the suppressant this week and will give Andy what is needed to reverse it if anything should go awry while I am… somewhat indisposed.”</p><p>“What do you mean… somewhat indisposed?” Hermione asked, tilting her head to the side a bit, lamenting the loss of skin-to-skin contact when Narcissa removed the hand from her cheek. Narcissa waved the question off with a short explanation, stating that pure-blood marriages required certain divorce clauses, and the Malfoy-Black one included one that, “if the marriage ends in divorce rather than in death, the instigating party- or in our specific vows- the wife will go through a period whereupon she is indisposed for… well, it doesn’t <em> quite </em>specify, but no longer than a few days, I would suppose. It shall be nothing compared to what occurred under the manor’s roof during Riddle’s invasion, Hermione. Nothing Andy cannot handle. Nothing I cannot get through, for what awaits beyond is worth it.”</p><p>She couldn’t get angry at those eyes… that face, this <em> woman</em>. All she could do was slowly shake her head and say, “Thank you for telling me. But let me know as soon as you’re better, all right? And tell Andy that if she needs anything, she can owl me.” Narcissa gave her a gentle smile and pulled her into another hug. As the older witch pulled away, the skin of their cheeks ghosting, Hermione’s eyes watched as Narcissa looked at her, then she- she seemed to glance down towards her lips? Wishful thinking. That was all. It was gone as soon as she thought she saw it.</p><p>Narcissa looked out the window and squinted, then said, “Speaking of owls… that looks like my son’s?” With a swish of her wand, part of the window opened to allow the creature in. It flew past them, turned in one fell swoop, and landed on Narcissa’s shoulder, extending its leg out for her to take the letter. Once in her hands, she scanned the name and turned her head towards it, pursing her lips at the owl. “You are aware that I am not <em> Miss Hermione Granger</em>, hm, Artemis?”</p><p>She handed the envelope to her, and Hermione eyed Draco’s handwriting on the front before flipping it over and breaking the wax seal carefully. She couldn’t simply slice it open with her fingers or her wand with the man’s <em> mum </em> watching her. And yes, she could feel Narcissa’s eyes flit back and forth between her and likely that owl that- she glanced up, watching as the owl, <em> Artemis</em>- what a name- nuzzled against Narcissa’s cheek affectionately. Narcissa smiled at her as she stroked the owl’s head.</p><p>“We’ve had her since she was an owlet,” Narcissa explained. “We gave her to Draco, but she imprinted on all… all three of us.” The woman swallowed at the reference to Lucius but recovered swiftly. “Now, pray tell, what has my son sent you?” Hermione unfolded the letter and scanned the message.</p><p>“Nothing more than an invitation to meet the other members of the BSRA this coming weekend. Formal and informal introductions and the such.” She turned the letter around so that Narcissa could read it, extending it towards her. “Here, you can see for yourself.” Narcissa leaned over and read through it.</p><p>“‘Nothing more,’ she says,” Narcissa began with a smirk playing at her lips. “It does this mother well to see her son speak so well of Mr. Macmillan and Mr. Finch-Fletchley, though. He used to have nothing good to say of Hufflepuffs… an unfortunate habit we spurred him into adapting. They are both fine, upstanding young wizards. It is lovely to see that Mr. Macmillan is starting to earnestly court Mr. Finch-Fletchley.”</p><p>Hermione’s eyes almost bugged out. “Wait, <em> what</em>?” She flipped the letter back around to read it again, skimming for mentions of Ernie and Justin… <em> ‘Macmillan will approach first, then introduce Finch-Fletchley,’ ‘though they arrive together, Macmillan gained permission from the Headmistress, so no need to ask,’ ‘ask Finch-Fletchley to explain some things, the bloke </em> loves <em> to impress upon others all that he’s learned of pure-blood customs. I am certain that he can convey it in such a way- from Muggle-born to Muggle-born- that neither Macmillan nor I can.’ </em>Ah. She flushed, folded the letter up and placed it back inside of the envelope.</p><p>“In-between the lines,” Narcissa lightly laughed out as they met gazes. Hermione shoved her face into her hands and started giggling madly. How it was that Narcissa, and somehow by proxy, <em> Draco</em>, could make this visit to Black Manor change from something dreadful to leaving her like- like <em> this</em>. Merlin, she couldn’t <em> help </em> but love Narcissa.</p><p>Wait. Love?</p><p>Hermione’s heart swelled, her chest tightening like a coil was spun around it. But it wasn’t painful, at least not like… oh shite. Fancying the older witch was one thing, but fancying and <em> love </em>weren’t the same thing. It was… more. She bit down on her lip and cast a weak look up towards Narcissa, finding a teasing light dusting of pink flushing across her cheeks, a hand held over her mouth, hiding…</p><p>“Don’t hide your smile or your laughter from me, Narcissa,” Hermione softly chided, uncovering her face to wrap a hand around Narcissa’s wrist.</p><p>“Pot calling the kettle black, my dear,” Narcissa quipped as she let Hermione guide her hand away from covering her mouth. “Hiding your<em> face</em>? I would dare wager that that is a much higher offence.”</p><p><em> Oh</em>. Hermione turned her head to the side, knowing better than to even try and hide her reddened cheeks within the palms of her hands now. <em> Anyone </em> would blush at that! She wasn’t- this was- Narcissa was <em> infuriating </em> in her teasing! That was all. But it was growing harder and harder to fool herself. She could only gather whatever Gryffindor courage she had to turn back and face the other witch.</p><p>“You’re too kind,” she said, then grinned coyly. “Perhaps you should file my offence with the DMLE. I’m sure <em> someone </em> could come up with a bit of fitting punishment for me.” And… a-ha! There it was. The light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks darkened considerably, and Narcissa playfully swatted at her knee. Yes, two could play at this game.</p><p>“It would do you good to watch your tongue, or else I <em> may </em>have to withhold your birthday present from you,” Narcissa said with a sly grin. Hermione creased her brow and uttered, “Wait- You… you didn’t have to, you know?”</p><p>But Narcissa only replied that she’d <em> wanted </em>to, and- and- Merlin, she’d received plenty of gifts already from her friends, some she still hadn’t the chance to open after the fiasco of the Griffin’s Nest, but here Narcissa was, pulling a shrunken drawstring sack from within her robes. She wordlessly returned it to its original state and handed it to Hermione; she could feel the other woman’s eyes on her as she opened it, pulling out a...“Blank journal? I-”</p><p>“Shh,” Narcissa said, resting a hand on Hermione’s before placing the tip of her wand on the cover and casting a… revealing spell? On the journal? It instantaneously transfigured in her hands, still looking like a journal on the outside, something that would look like what any other Hogwarts students might use to take notes. But the pages within she noticed were no longer blank but filled like a catalogue. A catalogue of books. She hurriedly turned back to the front cover and Narcissa took the moment to take hold of her hand, murmuring something, imbuing<em> something </em>into Hermione. It felt like strings were pulled taut through her then slowly released. Not painful, just slightly uncomfortable.</p><p>Then Narcissa moved her hand, palm down, over the front cover, revealing the title: <em> The Library Compendium of the Most Ancient House of Malfoy</em>, “or catalogue, to shed light on my true intentions in giving this to you, Hermione.” She looked up at Narcissa, blinking slowly, trying to… was she understanding this correctly?</p><p>“I will only have access to this book until the Sunday after next, or through the fourth of October,” Narcissa informed. “After that date, this book will transfer back into the Malfoy Manor library, but any book you would like in the meantime? Simply tap your wand to the specific book- the image of it, its title, or description- and a list will appear on the last page. When you are satisfied with your selection, go to that final page and tap thrice for a house-elf to gather the collected books and bring them to your quarters. Ownership shall pass from the House of Malfoy to yourself because of the spell I cast into your hand. It will also expire on the fourth.”</p><p>The more and more Narcissa spoke, the more smugly satisfied and <em> pleased </em> she appeared, her eyes glinting with fervour and mischievousness. She explained further, “Lucius was never one to fully appreciate the wealth of knowledge his family possesses, and he will not gain access to this library for at least five or six years if they release him on good behaviour.” She paused, wetting her lips. “I do regret that this particular gift has a time limit, but-”</p><p>Hermione, already having placed the journal-catalogue to the side, launched herself at Narcissa, clinging to her and thanking her profusely. “Time limit…” she mumbled into Narcissa's neck, “Utter rubbish!” Moving her head slightly so Narcissa could better hear her, she said, “Sure there’s a limit on how long I can <em> use </em>the catalogue, but the books I rescue from the library? There’s no limit there, Narcissa, there’s… Merlin, thank you so, so much. And this… it keeps me from having to-” but she choked on her words, burying her face into the other witch’s neck again, blinking back moisture forming in her eyes.</p><p>A hand rubbed at her back. “I know, Hermione, and you need never go back there. Dare do I say that once the divorce is finalised and I am… <em> myself </em> again, I will no longer be welcome at the manor.”</p><p>Pulling back some, she eyed Narcissa curiously. “And where will you live then?”</p><p>“I thought Black Manor at first, but the House of Black owns several properties. Or did,” Narcissa gave a small shrug. “I have already started to move my things into temporary storage at the manor, but there is a seaside cottage I may move into that we’ve managed to retain that is within a short distance of a Wizarding village and a Muggle town that came into existence far later. I would need to connect its fireplace to the Floo Network because it was taken off over a century ago. A Black hasn’t set foot in the cottage in that amount of time or longer.”</p><p>Hermione opened her mouth to say something about checking for boobytraps, but… Narcissa would be a Black again by the time she entered. She’d be fine. Changing course, she smiled. “Sounds like a lovely place to begin again.”</p><p>“You’re welcome to see it, or wherever I move after the divorce,” and was that the equivalent of Narcissa <em> blurting </em> something out? God, she’d said it so quickly, as if it had already been at the forefront of her mind and the tip of her tongue. Hermione smiled and agreed without a second thought. Even if it would put them together in a smaller space. Alone. Together. No Bellatrix Black skulking about elsewhere. She swallowed hard and tried to rid herself of the inappropriate thoughts that threatened to fully bloom.</p><p>Getting to her feet again, Hermione stretched and then summoned the journal into her hold. Narcissa instructed her on revealing and concealing its true contents and nature before they exited the library, noting the late hour.</p><p>“Good thing that I’m one of those so-called eighth years,” she remarked as she grabbed a pinch of Floo powder.</p><p>Narcissa crossed her arms over her chest good-naturedly. “And you’ve your own quarters, <em> and </em> an excellent relationship with the Headmistress certainly helps, doesn’t it, <em> Miss Granger</em>?” Her lips twitched upward, a hint of white teeth peeking through. Hermione chuckled.</p><p>“Of course, but you don’t see me taking advantage of it right and left, do you?”</p><p>“Which is why you’re not a Slytherin, darling,” Narcissa reasoned well enough.</p><p>Hermione pulled a face that drew laughter from the older witch before disappearing into the Floo. Not a Slytherin, indeed, but she was finding more and more that they weren’t all the evil caricatures some liked to paint them as. Far from it, actually.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“You will not ask Hermi- <em> Miss Granger</em>-”</p><p>“Call her by her given name, Cissy, it’s not as if I didn’t already suspect, guess, what-have-you,” Bella dully said, absentmindedly playing with her fingers as she sat in the windowsill of her bedroom. Narcissa cleared her throat uneasily and moved to sit in a chair nearby, eyes roaming over her sister’s posture, her body language. Tense, disconnecting, but hiding it well. Not well enough, though. Of all people still left living after the war, it was she who knew her sister the best.</p><p>“Right, then. You won’t bring up what occurred the night you Floo’d into Malfoy Manor. I handled it, and that is all that needs speaking of. Do I need to perform a <em> langlock </em>or something akin, or will you agree freely while Molly Weasley takes my place as an intermediary this week?” she unsheathed her wand, tapping it so that it emitted warning sparks.</p><p>Bella eyed the wand and grinned acerbically, a bit of a hard glint coming back to her dark eyes, “Of course, Narcissa. I’ll <em> play </em>along of my own free will…” her voice lowered, “or as much bloody free will this bond allows.”</p><p>“I heard that, Bella.” Narcissa stood from the seat, moving to stand next to her sister. “I’m almost done with the suppressant. I’ll have it owled to the both of you tomorrow evening. Not in time to avoid the meeting, but…”</p><p>“About sodding time,” Bellatrix half-growled, her fingers tensing on her knee. Her face turned to meet Narcissa’s eyes. “It’ll be a nice change to not feel the things this bond wants me to for the Muggle-born witch that you’ve grown… <em> fond </em> of. It's been rather troublesome.” A hand was held up in front of her face just as she opened her mouth. “Don’t even try to fool me, Cissy. I’m… mad, but not <em> completely </em> so. I know when to watch and observe, when to strike. How else did I become the Dark Lord’s right-hand lieutenant, hm?”</p><p>Narcissa felt herself deflating at the mention of <em> striking</em>. She- she couldn’t let anything worse happen to Hermione, she had to try and keep Bella within her better faculties. In Bella’s eyes that didn’t matter except for the fact that if she hurt the young woman, she’d endanger her little sister’s magic <em>and </em>their relationship again. She groaned and walked over to her sister’s bed, half-unmade, and unconsciously cast to make it before sitting down. “You must remember that if you hurt Hermione, you will threaten <em> my </em>magic, Bellatrix. And she- you’re too bloody perceptive for your own good,” Narcissa hissed, then wrapped a hand around her forehead and breathed out slowly. “And even- even if you don’t particularly care about that anymore,” she gave voice to a fear that had planted itself in her now, “I can and will ask the Ministry to place more protections around that witch and myself from you. We can- we-” she fumbled for words, something that didn’t happen to her often at all, why was she feeling so-</p><p>A weight dropped down beside her on the bed and Bellatrix’s fingers harshly grasped part of her jaw, turning her so their eyes met. “Should have expected another complete blood-traitor in the family after… after <em> Andromeda</em>.” Their sister’s name spilt from Bella’s mouth like it was poisonous. “If I could… I would-” but she bit her tongue and winced. “At least you’ve the mind to... <em> entertain </em> such a thing after it’s so suddenly<em> acceptable</em>- Merlin, even<em> welcomed</em>. And you had the sense to produce a pure-blood heir beforehand.” Bella turned her head downward and grumbled something Narcissa couldn’t ascertain, then got to her feet and stood in front of the window.</p><p>“I still bloody well abhor that Granger girl,” she huffed, then flinched visibly. “Oh, does the bloody <em> bond </em> not like that?” Narcissa watched as her older sister clenched her hands into fists, her knuckles whitened from the pressure, then turned halfway to flash a dangerous, pearly white smile. “Oh, I can’t <em> wait </em>to put this thing in its place, dear sister. I’ll continue to play nicely, as much as I can, but if this suppressant works, I don’t want to see that Muggle-born ever again.”</p><p>“I’m sure she feels likewise,” Narcissa said smoothly, but keenly noticed the way her sister screwed her eyes shut after she spoke the last sentence. She was holding things back, and whether that was the bond or herself…</p><p>Bellatrix’s eyes popped open and she laughed. “She’d be a fool not to. And I won’t,” she waved her hand in the air, “<em>interfere </em> with whatever you have with her, but don’t parade it in front of me. Don’t talk to me about her. Mother and Father aren’t here to force <em> us </em> apart as they did with…” Bella trailed off. “But I can only ignore so much. At least Granger can’t muddy you up like <em> he </em> did to… Andromeda, with his <em> seed</em>.” She spat the word out like it was a particularly nasty flavour of a Bertie Bott’s bean.</p><p>Narcissa felt heat rise from her neck, spreading throughout her cheeks. She didn’t dare mention what Bellatrix would surely recall later, and it wasn’t as if…! No, they- they’d be friends, perhaps, after all of this was after, but she would find another witch, and Hermione could find someone who fit her better than the soon-to-be ex-wife of a Death Eater, who had hosted Tom Riddle in their very home. Witness to so many horrors she did nothing to actively stop, some still not known to the public. She shoved the memories as deep down as she could. Yet again. She only wished she could find a way to keep them there, because Merlin knew she now had Bellatrix <em> knowing </em> and <em> keeping </em>things from her to deal with on top of everything else.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Gemma Farley stood near Narcissa and Andromeda in a bedroom of Malfoy Manor, preparing the last few things needed to complete the unbinding of Malfoy blood from within Narcissa. The younger Slytherin had already taken the two vials of blood from Lucius and Narcissa and poured them into a small basin. As in some other pure-blood marriages, even if Lucius had been able to be here, he still would not have been as hurt as she, even if he had been the one to instigate the proceedings. She clenched the hand that wasn’t held by Andromeda, and if it weren’t for Draco’s existence making all those years worth it, she would entertain a wish that she could have been like Andy. Her sister hadn’t taken such blood vows with Edward Tonks.</p><p>“I’ve done all I can to expedite the process, Mrs. Malfoy.” Gemma turned to face the two Black sisters and asked for the younger to lift the sleeve covering her right arm. She did the Ministry worker one better and took her robes off, shedding a layer underneath as well until all that was left were her well-fitted grey trousers and a navy nightshirt that only covered her arms to the elbow. Gemma came closer, kneeling until she could easily place one steadying hand on Narcissa’s knee before levitating the blood-filled basin closer, hovering it as she asked Andromeda, “Mrs. Tonks, are you amenable to holding this in your lap for the duration?” Narcissa watched as Andy nodded through her grimace, then remembered herself enough to supply a verbal yes.</p><p>As Gemma opened her mouth, looking pained, Narcissa held up a hand. “You don’t need to say how wretched it will be, Ms. Farley. I am aware.”</p><p>“I wasn’t going to, Mrs. Malfoy… or should I say Ms. Black?” Gemma smiled, but almost instantaneously fell back into that somewhat pained, yet determined look. “I was only going to say that I look forward to the day when such vows no longer exist. With the generation coming up now, who knows how much our society will change for the better?”</p><p>She hadn’t directly mentioned any names, but Narcissa instinctually thought of Hermione, who… she hadn’t been entirely truthful with. She merely hadn’t wanted to worry the witch, to put any more strain on her than she already had to deal with, considering her own blood bond, handling the physical and mental effects leftover from what Bellatrix had done to her, her parents, <em> and </em>that entire situation with the Weasley boy… Hermione had far more than enough on her plate already to add this into the mix.</p><p>“I believe I can speak for the both of us,” Andy’s warm voice came from beside her, “when I say that when that day comes, a celebration must be had.” She turned to her sister and shot her a small smile before she snapped her head back around, hissing through her teeth as a long gash appeared down the inside of her forearm. She hadn’t even had time to prepare! Narcissa felt a piece of sweet-tasting cloth slip between her teeth, softening the blow from clenching her jaw. It was… certainly also imbued with something calming, taking the edge off as Gemma- with various wand movements and incantations- isolated the blood spillage to only her arm (though it was still a gruesome sight that, if not for all she’d seen during the wars, might have caused her to faint) and drew some of the blood from the basin into the gash.</p><p>Some immobilising spell must have been cast on her; otherwise, she was certain she would have been thrashing about on the mattress because this pain, unlike the Cruciatus curse- save for what Bella had transformed it into when torturing Hermione- was causing physical <em> and </em> mental anguish. Though it focused on her injured forearm, it radiated up and through the rest of her body, seizing at her brain and any rational thought until she was so, <em> so </em>sure her mind would end up as literal mush before this entire thing was bloody well finished.</p><p>The gash on her arm, with the mixture of Black and Malfoy blood, was still open and bleeding, but it had flashed a dark navy- much like a sky during some terrible storm, turning her veins nearly pitch dark as the vow dissolution casting travelled through her being, starting with her blood. It ravaged her, but at some point- a piercing yellow flash went off in her mind’s eye, enveloping her in such stark, bright light. Her eyes were still open, but all she was was the yellow light, much like the sun but without any of the pain associated with trying to look at it directly. The signal that every trace of Malfoy was starting to fade from her, except for what it would leave behind for at least a week after. Its’ parting postscript as her body worked to adjust. She grimaced as the piercing colour suddenly disappeared, leaving her with the even tone of grey for several seconds. Blinking, she finally cleared her vision in time to see Gemma pulling pitch-black blood from within bright red- a colour charm she’d placed to differentiate Malfoy from Black blood, she explained.</p><p>It felt like it took all of several hours, but Gemma and Andromeda assured her it’d only been a little over twenty minutes. “It’s not over, though,” Narcissa mumbled weakly, exhaustion overwhelming her as Gemma bottled the Malfoy blood into a Kilner jar. That was… quite a lot of blood. She suddenly felt extremely woozy, and she vaguely realised that the immobilisation charm had been removed, for she was swaying a bit on the bed, trying to stay upright.</p><p><em> “Get those blood replenishing potions stat, damn it!” </em>was the last thing she heard before falling back onto the mattress, losing herself to unconsciousness.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve been out for about three straight days, Cissa.”</p><p><em> Oh, have I? </em> she thought groggily, trying to roll her eyes behind still shut eyelids, but to no avail. She <em> did </em>manage to groan for a couple of seconds before even that effort took the life out of her. It was best to stay as still as possible, keep her eyes closed, focus on… yes, Andy’s hand covering her own, stroking the most soothing pattern as her ears listened to the clinking of what she could only assume were potion vials moving about, Andromeda readying them for ingestion.</p><p>“I know it’s still rather difficult-”</p><p>She tried to laugh, but it sounded more like the faint cry of a dying animal. Andromeda patted her hand and in the next moment, she felt the rim of a vial against her lips. With much effort, helped along by Andromeda, she swallowed down what might have been the vilest concoction she’d ever taken. Of course, she couldn’t get away with anything <em> sweet</em>, besides her sister, during this time. Another four potions, by her count, though Narcissa knew it was probably off, were downed in the next few minutes, and finally- <em> finally</em>, “That does it for today, love. Don’t try to talk, but I surmised you may wish to do something other than lay in silence, so- it’s Monday, the 28th of September, and I received an owl from Molly Weasley on Friday, the day after the dissolvement, the day after she accompanied Hermione to act as a temporary intermediary between our young Gryffindor and that blasted sister of ours.”</p><p>It truly was a struggle not to open her eyes, not to chuckle at the way Andy’s teasing, fond tone when speaking of ‘our young Gryffindor’ faded into near disdain when mentioning Bellatrix. But it was much more of a pain to want to ask questions, to <em> want </em> to contribute, but her body simply was not cooperating with her. She did manage to twitch her lips because Andromeda said something about it. What she had to do was lay there, only listening, as she was caught up on a rather hilarious retelling of Molly and Bellatrix interacting while Hermione more or less played the role of mediator. Two very different types of women, Molly Weasley and her sister, and three headstrong witches in one wing of Black Manor. They were all quite lucky that Hermione Granger, despite being sorted into Gryffindor, apparently had enough Ravenclaw in her to rationally handle the two older women when it came down to it. And was strong enough, somehow, to face the real Bellatrix after… what had happened days previously. Narcissa's heart clenched, wishing she could have been there, but once the Ministry scheduled divorces, they didn’t- or more like <em> wouldn’t</em>- cancel.</p><p>“I’ll have you know, Cissa,” Andy said, and she felt her sister’s warm fingers moving hair back from her face, “Hermione does have some self-restraint. I’ve yet to receive a letter from her outright demanding to know your whereabouts, only to check in on your well-being.” Narcissa wanted to say, <em> well, I am not the only person in her life, Andy. And it has only been three days. </em>But she had told the young woman that this would likely only <em>take</em> a few days. Andromeda didn’t know that. Unfortunately, she couldn’t say a thing in response, but she did manage to move her eyes behind her eyelids, which Andy caught and breathed out a bit of laughter at.</p><p>“Of course, I’m sure that you have plenty you’d like to say about that witch, Narcissa. Give yourself a day or two more, though, hm?” She heard her sister get to her feet and let go of her hand. The loss of contact was… a tad distressing, but she wouldn’t let it show. Not as if she truly could at that. It was for the best that Hermione not see her in this state. She had no doubt the Gryffindor witch would have the mind to recklessly march straight into the Ministry and <em> demand </em> something immediately be done about it. Nothing <em> could </em> be done about it, at least… not for her. Now, the future? She wanted to smile at the thought of Hermione Granger contributing to the dismantlement of such… how would the younger witch term it, perhaps? ‘Barbaric marriage vows’? Merlin, imagining the younger woman pacing back and forth, eloquently ranting about them… it was a rather delightful image to fall asleep to as the potions made their way through her system, shutting her body and mind down again to recuperate. Another twenty-four hours of this, some of which she fully intended to try and savour before the potions would have to be modified, leaving her without the reprieve of forced unconsciousness and thus in a state that she was not looking forward to having to contend with.</p><p>Oh, well. It simply couldn’t be helped. The outcome would be worth it. She knew without a doubt that she would <em> make </em>it all worth this.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hermione has her last visit with bellatrix before taking the suppressant, goes to her first bsra meeting as its muggle-born co-head, and has an occlumency lesson with professor snyde.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>omg i'm glad i didn't have some huge a/n this time around bcus ao3 shat itself while trying to save an updated draft, so i had to start over lmao. anyway, in this chapter we get some new characters interacting with hermione. 💛 and thanks again @ Erin26_94 for beta reading!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If there’s something she should have expected from Molly Weasley accompanying her to Black Manor, it was anything <em>but</em> a boring visit. At least it helped distract her from having to focus too much on the real Bellatrix, which would only lead to thinking about what had happened with the bond’s version at the Griffin’s Nest. And though the Dark witch hardly had any spells at her disposal, she had no trouble at all threatening the Weasley matriarch and getting into it with her without pushing her so far as to cause Molly to hex or otherwise retaliate beyond heated words. Even without resorting to combative wandwork, it eventually led to an exasperated Hermione getting between them both until Molly, at least, saw reason and followed Hermione out onto the grounds of the manor. She’d remarked on her surprise that Molly hadn’t turned to using her wand, to which Molly had looked over at her completely flabbergasted… paired with a hint of taking some offence.</p><p><em> “However much at odds I am with that witch, I would </em> never <em> attack someone who has hardly any way of defending themselves against me, Hermione! A Weasley… and Prewett, for that matter, does not attack the defenceless.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Hermione’s cheeks coloured. “I apologise- I wasn’t thinking,” which was true, as despite the distraction of the conflict it had still taken a huge chunk of her efforts, will, and brainpower, to not somehow break at coming into contact with Bellatrix for the first time since what had occurred at the Griffin’s Nest, “and-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “It’s all right, dear,” Molly reassured her,  who had since taken a seat on one of the garden benches, patting next to her for Hermione to join. “I must admit that I had hoped to not get into it with that witch-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hermione nearly flinched at the way the bond was reacting, making her want to correct Molly to call Bellatrix by her name… or at the least, her family name. She bit her tongue instead. Bloody bond. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on Narcissa’s suppressant. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But I am glad that we’ve gotten away from her,” Molly turned to face Hermione, “as I’ve been meaning to ask how things are going between my Ronald and yourself? He isn’t home much, but he loves you and has told me he wishes he could be around more. Being an Auror and all, though!” The woman sighed, a soft and proud smile on her face as she watched Hermione expectantly. Oh, Merlin. </em>
</p><p><em> Pursing her lips, Hermione flitted her eyes away for a moment, watching as more than one house-elf tended to the gardens. That was new. Maybe Narcissa had- god, she needed to </em> stay - on - bloody - topic! <em> She gave Molly a weak smile and, well, if she lied now, it would do her no good. Somehow the woman either didn’t know or was testing her. She tried to see it in Molly’s brown eyes, so like Ginny’s, but… no luck. She wished Narcissa was here. Even if just in the general vicinity. </em></p><p>
  <em> “Er, when were you last in touch with Ron?” She watched as Molly blinked slowly at her, then tapped a finger to her chin. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Molly clicked her tongue, eyes brightening. Realisation. “Ah! The day before your birthday, Hermione. Hm, if I remember correctly, he was… rather quiet about you. Perhaps that’s why I’m asking, dear. Is there something wrong?” </em>
</p><p><em> She couldn’t suppress the grimace, the slow shake of her head. “We- we’ve broken up?” Oh, she hadn’t meant to phrase it as a question. </em> If you spare him… <em> or her, or them… </em> you choke yourself, <em> Narcissa’s words came back to her. Hermione swallowed hard, steeling herself. “Yes, we- the day after my birthday. I love Ron, Mrs. Weasley, but… not in the way he deserves a woman to love him. As a future wife, that is.” </em></p><p><em> Mrs. Weasley stared at her for a few moments. Clearly, she was processing, and Hermione let her, hoping she wouldn’t lose the closest thing she’d had for a Wizarding mum since she’d befriended Ron and Harry. She watched as Mrs. Weasley stood from the bench and walked several steps away, then came back to stand a little ways in front of her, surveying her- it was unnerving, and Hermione glanced down at her lap for a moment. Finally, she looked up, chewing on the inside of her lip as she made to protectively curl her own arms around her body. Mrs. Weasley could go either way, and Hermione hadn’t forgotten how the woman had treated her after reading that blasted Skeeter article in fourth year. But she’s here with her this time- she would explain </em> anything<em>, she just- she didn’t want to </em> lose <em> the Weasleys of all people, the first pureblood family to accept her, even welcome her as a Muggle-born. Not to mention that she’d already lost her parents for the time being. </em></p><p>
  <em> “Neither of you has hurt the other?” Molly finally asked. </em>
</p><p><em> Hermione leapt out of her seat. “No…! No, no- nothing like that. We… there were already so many misunderstandings between us. Distance grew, didn’t make… Well, </em> me <em> fonder of him. Didn’t miss him like a girlfriend </em> should<em>. And…” hm, Narcissa had taken it well enough, so, “And, er, I- I’ve come to realise, to… accept, that I… fancy witches more than wizards, Mrs. Weasley. It took some time, but-” She bit her tongue from admitting that even if Ron </em> were <em> a witch, it was quite unlikely that she’d be attracted to her if she had the same personality, if they’d shared the same sort of almost constantly bickering relationship during school. </em></p><p><em> “Ah. That… hm,” Molly paused, some emotions clearly warring on her face, so like how Ronald could look at times, “I cannot say that I’m... particularly pleased with this development right off- you both seemed so lovely together in the summer, but I…” she gave a heavy sigh, “I want the best for my son. It’s... better for this to happen </em> now <em> so he can find someone else, and you… oh, come here, love.” Hermione looked up, eyes burning, at Mrs. Weasley’s outstretched arms beckoning her over. She tentatively stepped closer until the other witch moved forward and took her into her arms. </em></p><p><em> Almost surprised by the sound of her own crying, though knowing it was the release of pent up emotions, she gathered the fabric of the back of Molly’s robes into her fingers’ grasp. “Y-you’re not angry with me?” she asked, her voice cracking pathetically. Molly withdrew a bit from the embrace and gave her a stern look before breaking into a watery smile. “Now why ever would I be cross with you, dear girl? This is </em> far <em> better than an unhappy marriage and a divorce down the line, Hermione. My son deserves happiness, someone who fully and truly loves him, and you do as well.” </em></p><p>
  <em> Hermione flushed but was unable to stop herself from bringing up… “F-fourth year, though, I… you… Skeeter’s article-” </em>
</p><p><em> Molly’s eyes widened. “Oh! I thought… did I not properly apologise for that, dear? Please forgive this old mum of seven, I am </em> so <em> sorry if I never did properly right that with you. You will always have a place in this family. You and our dear Harry.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “If Ron still wants to be friends with me…” she murmured, casting her eyes towards the ground for a moment. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, what has that boy done now?” Molly almost groaned.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “He said he needs time. I’m… giving him that. We did have a bit of a row, and I gave him plenty to think about. Can you- I’m sorry if this is too much to ask, but could you keep my preference for witches to yourself? Or at least only tell Mr. Weasley? I didn’t get to tell Ron, or anyone else for that matter.” </em>
</p><p>Well. Except for Narcissa and Draco<em>, she thought. But that wasn’t who she was referring to. </em></p><p><em> Molly patted her cheek with a warm hand. “Of course, dear. I won’t even pester you about </em> which <em> witch you fancy until you tell your friends.” </em></p><p>
  <em> “Pester me? What?” she asked incredulously, eyes wide. </em>
</p><p><em> The older witch’s laughter was bright and warm. “Oh, we’re </em> Gryffindors<em>, Hermione. We wear our emotions like we’ve painted our faces for a Quidditch match! It’s all over your face, that is. I hope she returns your feelings- she would be a fool not to!” </em></p><p>A fool.</p><p>No, Hermione would wager that <em> she </em> was the fool as she walked into the temporary headquarters of the BSRA in the Ministry of Magic. How was she supposed to keep her feelings for Narcissa a secret from <em> Draco, </em> the woman’s <em> son</em>? She caught his eye as she entered the set of rooms the Ministry had set aside for their purposes. Bulletin boards decorated in parchment work littered the main area, and a decently-sized conference table sat in the midst of it all.</p><p>“Ah, the Muggle-born co-head <em> finally </em> graces us with her presence,” Draco drawled, his lips curving into a teasing smile. Hermione made a show of gesturing around them, at the fact that, “No one else is <em> here</em>, Draco. What do you mean by ‘us’?” And as if on bloody <em> cue</em>, the Floo connection several steps away from the two of them roared to life, emitting two more wizards into the headquarters- Ernie Macmillan, followed by Justin Finch-Fletchley. Who were holding hands. Right. Narcissa was <em> right</em>.</p><p>“He means ‘<em> us’ </em>us, Hermione,” Ernie laughed out. Hermione narrowed her eyes and flitted her gaze between the two Hufflepuffs and Slytherin.</p><p>“You three planned this, didn’t you?” she asked, a slight edge to her tone that she hoped didn’t come across as antagonising. Draco crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back against the conference table, and with a flick of his wand, a maroon and golden banner dropped from the ceiling, reading, “Welcome, Hermione Granger, BSRA’s Muggle-born Co-head!” and directly underneath in much smaller lettering, “(who bloody well took her sweet time accepting!)” and oh, <em> oh Merlin</em>, she could only burst out laughing at it. Especially at the moving drawing of a snake that Draco had to have added at the last minute, off in a corner of the banner. Or <em> corners</em>, as it kept moving between them.</p><p>When she finished laughing, she wiped at her eyes and watched as Ernie brought over Justin, still holding hands like they were each other’s lifelines. Well, they had shared a dormitory in Hufflepuff for six years, had always looked to be rather close at Hogwarts, and-</p><p>“I know you’ve already met us, Hermione,” Ernie said, a tinge of pride barely concealed in his voice, “but allow me the pleasure of introducing Justin Finch-Fletchley as my partner in courtship… or, rather, boyfriend.” </p><p>“Both work, Ernie,” Justin commented before taking Hermione’s hand, shaking it, then pulling her forward into a hug. When he withdrew, he was grinning from ear-to-ear as he trailed fingers through his curly brown hair, eyes flitting from Hermione to Ernie to Draco, and then back to her. He looked… a bit apprehensive? Oh! Oh, Muggle-borns… right. He was probably wondering if she was <em> okay </em> with the two of them being in a romantic relationship. </p><p>She beamed and put a hand around his arm, gently squeezing. “I’m happy for the two of you. Can’t say that I’m familiar with courtship in Wizarding society, though. Is it very much like how Muggles used to go about it, Justin?” And as Justin launched into listing the differences between the two, the four of them settled at one end of the conference table while a few house-elves brought out snacks for them, including an assortment of biscuits, tea, Cauldron Cakes, Chocolate Frogs, and some Honeydukes’ chocolates. Gods, her parents would have a fit!</p><p>“Have to say, Hermione,” Justin said to her in a low tone as Ernie and Draco talked to each other on the other side of the table, “I was a bit anxious to tell you. Since, you know…” he trailed off, grimacing.</p><p>Hermione sighed softly. “Muggles still don’t take all that kindly to same-gender relationships, yes. I’m not sure how my parents truly feel about it, but…” she reached over and squeezed Justin’s hand reassuringly, “You have my full support. And, er…” she leant in close to him, mouth close to his ear, “I haven’t told <em> too </em>many people yet, not even Ron or Harry, but I’ve finally had the time to discern that I… prefer witches to wizards.”</p><p>Justin leaned back, eyes wide as his lips curved into a broad grin. “Merlin, that’s…! Thank you for telling me, Hermione. I- does Draco…? I’d love for Ernie to know- another Muggle-born like me! But, if you aren’t comfortable… I can keep secrets. Loyal badger here you’ve got,” he winked, nudging her shoulder with his. She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and cleared her throat, capturing the attention of the two pure-blooded wizards.</p><p>“I know this isn’t why we’re all here,” she said, “but as we’re on about blood status reparations, aiming to start the work of repairing… making things better, I would imagine that honesty and transparency are some top qualities we’d like to exhibit?” Hermione watched as Ernie and Draco slowly nodded, both turning to look at each other for a moment before directing their attention back at her. “Well… as I just told Justin, and Draco… if you remember, I… did tell you, though I’m not sure if it came across more as a joke…” she licked her lips, “I don’t want Justin to have to keep a secret from Ernie, so I’ll just out and say it… I’m like you and Justin, Ernie. Except with, er, witches.” </p><p>Ernie beamed and clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Now all we need is for Draco here to join the club, eh, Malfoy?” the Hufflepuff wizard quipped, reaching over and ruffling up Draco’s pristinely styled hair. Draco grumbled something unintelligible and reached for Ernie’s hand, removing it forcibly from his head as he informed, “Unfortunately for you, I’ve only a preference for witches, thank you… <em> three </em>very much. Merlin, I need another Slytherin in here. Or a Ravenclaw for that matter. You Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs are too touchy-feely, you know that?”</p><p>Oh, how she had to hold her tongue. She thought of all the times Narcissa had touched and hugged her, wanting to remind him how she had squeezed <em> him </em> so tightly not too long ago at the Tonks’ residence, and was sorely tempted to tease Draco by suggesting that his mother <em> must </em> have either some Gryffindor or Hufflepuff in her, then, but she didn’t want to make the poor wizard faint or anything. He was already extremely pink in the face from the newfound attention he was getting from Ernie and Justin, poking fun at him, asking if there <em> were </em>any Muggle-born Slytherins to which Draco said, “Not to my knowledge, but there’s enough half-bloods to go around. And that reminds, shouldn’t we have some half-blood representation as well?”</p><p>“Wanting Tracey Davis, eh, Draco?” Ernie teased, earning himself a huff and a glare from the Slytherin wizard who looked mere moments from deciding to up and leave the room entirely. Instead, his hands flew up into the air as he exclaimed, “Look, she’s a nice witch, all right? I’m not interested in her, though. I’m to marry a pure-blood, that’s been set in stone since I… I can’t even <em> remember</em>! Merlin, Hermione, I take back any time I’ve said you Gryffindors are insufferable, your lot doesn’t come anywhere <em> close </em>to these damnable badgers!”</p><p>Hermione pulled a face and with a look towards Justin who was <em> trying </em> to get Ernie back to the purpose of this meeting, she scraped her chair back, popping one more biscuit into her mouth before she marched over to a centrally located bulletin board and smacked her wand against it three times. The three wizards shifted in their seats, meeting her all-business stare with repentant gazes. Even if Draco’s was tinged with mirth, almost reminding her of… no. No thinking about Narcissa here. Not right now. Andy was getting her through these few days of indisposition from the dissolution of her marriage vows, and if anything <em> were </em> to happen, Draco would certainly know, and he was acting his usual self, if albeit opening himself up a bit more each time they met. So. Yes. Back to business.</p><p>“Now, first question: will you three be as unmanageable as Gryffindors like Harry and Ronald or not? I’d like to know what I’m up against here.” She tapped the tip of her wand against her thigh, watching as Draco rolled his eyes and Ernie and Justin glanced at each other.</p><p>“You’re safe from having to mother-hen me, Hermione,” Draco drawled. She did an imitation of him rolling his eyes and informed him that he still needed to work on hiding at least <em> some </em> of his reactions (“you’re a Slytherin, are you not?”). He drew his lips into a thin line and gave her a curt nod.</p><p>Ernie spoke up next. “I’ll- we’ll?” he chanced a look at Justin who nodded enthusiastically. “Right, we’ll be fine. We were simply excited to see you finally join and attend a meeting, and things… got a bit out of hand. We’re typically much more on-topic than this. Would you like us to go over what we’ve already done these past few months?” he offered, starting to rise from his seat.</p><p>“I’d love that,” Hermione smiled, levitating her half-finished tea into her waiting hand, casting a warming charm on it before taking another sip.</p><p>The next hour or so was spent <em> mostly </em> listening and restraining herself from asking too many questions unless it was absolutely necessary for general understanding. She learned that with Justin’s input, as well as a focus group of Muggle-borns who’d survived the Second Wizarding War, that progress on the overhaul of Hogwarts’ Muggle Studies course was looking good. They’d given her the parchment work so far to look over for her own edits and seal of approval. As for the Wizarding World course… it was shifted to a more containable and concise Wizarding <em> Britain </em>course.</p><p>“We can’t hope to cover all of Wizarding culture throughout the entire world,” Ernie had informed her. “But we’ve brought the idea up for advanced, more specialised courses in later years if there’s interest. We’d need to work more with the Ministry on that, get input from foreign governments. There’s <em> loads </em>of potential there, though.”</p><p>Draco had educated her on the history of such a course, that apparently it <em> had </em> existed to some degree before Dumbledore had taken over as Headmaster and found it to not be worthwhile, considering some years had less Muggle-borns than others, and he had said to anyone who questioned him at the time that it would be <em> better </em> for Muggle-borns to learn about the Wizarding world <em> organically </em> instead of through a dry academic course, which... “That sounds like a load of shite to me, honestly,” she’d groused. “We’re entering a world we know next to <em> nothing </em> about, and he- he couldn’t understand, he wasn’t a Muggle-born! Merlin, that… ugh! And to think he kept the Muggle Studies course but also managed to let it turn into a mockery of what it’s really like to live with them, <em> as </em>one of them for a bit over a decade if you’re Muggle-born!”</p><p>They still definitely had their work cut out for them, though. From what she could tell, the blood diversity and sensitivity curricula had been nixed, because not even the Muggle-borns in the focus group had seen how it could help. Unless it wasn’t just some rubbish attempt at putting a band-aid on the problem (which the Muggle-borns had had to explain to Draco and Ernie)… it simply wouldn’t be effective. It reminded Hermione of what she’d heard of diversity trainings in the Muggle world, which she doubted worked as they were meant to. They’d have to go back to the drawing board on that entire idea, <em> if </em> they went back to it at all. But they’d certainly have to think a lot more on it before even approaching Kingsley and the Reparations committee- or rather better put, the “older adults keeping an eye on the BSRA,” as well as handling general reparations for those who had been affiliated with Tom Riddle.</p><p>At the very least, she had new research to look into, as it turned out that Draco <em>had </em>discussed the idea of putting funds toward research of Muggle-borns’ magical ancestry with Ernie, Justin, and officials within the Ministry. He gave her a compiled list of spells and potions that were already in use, mainly by pure-blood families for certifying that someone was pure-blooded before going through the rites and vows of marriage to produce an heir. She’d shared a look with Justin at how so many pure-bloods would roll over in their graves if they knew what these formerly guarded spells and potions were going to be used for now, combined with the science of Muggle genetics. For that, they’d need to enlist in the aid and connections of other Muggle-borns. It all... felt good. Really, <em>really </em>good.</p><p>“It’s a lot to have to look and read through, we know,” Justin started as they finished going over everything she’d missed.</p><p>Hermione held a hand up in front of his face, shushing him while she finished reading about a potion they’d need to alter if they wanted Muggle-borns to safely take it. When she finished, she withdrew her hand with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, Justin. Even if it’s a lot, I don’t mind at all. Only gives me more reason to curl up and get cosy around a fire in the library.”</p><p>“And we all<em> know </em> how much you love the Hogwarts’ library,” Draco said, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. She couldn’t even find it in her to bite back at him. This was- it was all so <em> refreshing</em>. The new knowledge, the chance to make a <em> difference </em>for future generations, to potentially sate her curiosity on where magic truly came from, and… she liked these wizards. Draco was still something of a surprise, still someone she was getting used to seeing in a new light, but it was nice, genuinely lovely. She did wish for some witches in the alliance, though, and so before they concluded the meeting, she brought up Tracey Davis as well as-</p><p>“Luna Lovegood? Really?” Draco’s face paled. “How can-” but at her displeased expression, he scowled and groaned out, “All right. We can give the half-blooded Ravenclaw witch a chance. She’s at least not one of you lions or badgers. Tell her to maybe tone it down some, though? She didn’t have that ‘Loony’ nickname for nothing, Hermione.”</p><p>“Wretched nickname that even <em> I </em> once called her and…” she cringed, “and regret now, Draco. Let’s all agree to not call her that again, yes? But thanks for saying you’ll give her a chance, though. She’s… she <em> is </em> a bit odd, but she’s kind, and I’m sure that she’ll be an asset. Her ideas may start a little out-there, but I’ve found I can read her better now than I could a couple of years ago.”</p><p>None of them could say no to that- it was just “giving her a chance,” after all. Gods, Hermione looked forward to extending the offer to Luna. She knew in her heart that it would make the other witch <em>so </em>happy, and it made her remember seeing the “Friends” mural that Luna had painted on the ceiling of her bedroom… before Snatchers had attacked her house because of her father trying to get her back by sacrificing Harry and Ron and herself. Hermione knew that Mr. Lovegood was serving community service for it, which she thought… <em>hoped</em> that he was already finished with. She made a mental note to ask Luna about it.</p><p>“Hey…” she heard Justin’s voice nearby, drawing her from her thoughts. He was playing with his fingers, looking at her then towards the floor while Ernie and Draco said their goodbyes. Hermione walked over to Justin and took his hands in her own, patting them before letting go.</p><p>Justin cleared his throat and smiled at her. “I, er, just wanted to say good luck with whichever witch you’re interested in, Hermione. Ah, don’t make that kind of face! You <em> could </em> say you prefer witches to wizards without fancying someone, but… you had this look about you- yes, that there! Don’t try to hide it. I can’t say I’d be the best to come to for advice, but if you ever… want to talk about this kind of stuff? You’re welcome at the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall, or we can talk anywhere you want. Us Muggle-borns have to stick together, even through all this progress we’re after with the BSRA. Not to exclude the pure-bloods, considering I’m bleeding well in a <em> relationship </em> with one, but… you know. Right?”</p><p>Oh she <em> definitely </em>knew, more than he realised. She squeezed his hands and on impulse pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Justin. I might owl you in the future, or pass a note in a lesson-” at Justin’s gasp and faux-shocked face, she playfully slapped his wrist, “Yes, I’ll break the rules sometimes. I’m not a first year anymore, Justin!” Justin looked her up and down and nodded.</p><p>“Neither of us are, Hermione- and no, Ernie, you know I <em> only </em> like wizards, I wasn’t looking at her like <em> that</em>, you git!” </p><p>...<em>How</em>? He hadn’t even turned to look at Ernie, who was… still kind of shooting daggers at her. She shrugged, raising her hands in defence. “He’s <em>all </em>yours, Ernie, may turn out I’m not attracted to wizards at all. Still working through that, but even if he wasn’t the one you were courting… sorry, Justin, but you simply wouldn’t be my type. We’ve both got curly brown hair… could you even <em>imagine </em>our children?” She laughed at the sheer absurdity of the notion.</p><p>“Merlin save us all from that dreadful image,” Draco said while Ernie snorted and Justin was reduced to stitches. Yeah, this was… this was a good thing they had going here. She’d needed this, she realised later as she settled back into bed in her quarters, primed and ready to spend the rest of the day going through all that she’d been given at the meeting.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p><em> The suppressant potion had tasted absolutely </em> wretched<em>. But she’d gulped it down, managed to get it past her gag reflex, and by bloody Merlin, it’d sent her down to her knees, laying her back against the footboard of the bed in her quarters on Friday morning. Her head buzzed so loudly it was as if the static from fifty, hell, perhaps one hundred televisions, was being pumped directly into her brain. All she remembered afterwards was groaning, holding the palms of her hands against the side of her head at the blaring static until blackness engulfed her vision. </em></p><p>With a start and a gasp Hermione woke, immediately tugging off her nightshirt and summoning a towel from the bathroom to wipe off the sweat that had accumulated from that dream of a memory. As she rubbed the towel over her body, she shifted her gaze to see the parchment work she’d been given at the BSRA meeting haphazardly laying on the other side of the mattress. She’d fallen asleep while reading through it. But with a <em> tempus </em>cast, she sighed in relief that she’d only been out for a few hours. Still had time for a late supper once she changed into something more appropriate than a nightshirt.</p><p>But… her stomach was telling her it wasn’t quite ready for food yet. And she needed to brush her teeth, because her mouth always felt disgusting after taking a kip. Sure, she could use teeth and gum cleansing charms, pop a sweet quill mint from Scrivenshaft’s, but… her parents. Still couldn’t let go of that habit that they’d instilled in her, though a few days a week she did treat herself with the charms instead. It was much quicker, at least.</p><p>While she swished the water in her mouth post-spit, she eyed herself critically in the bathroom mirror, thinking back to how she’d woken up on the floor of her quarters late Friday afternoon after taking the suppressant like she’d turned into some drunkard. She’d turned to lay on her back and started laughing at the sheer absurdity of it, wiping the drool from her mouth and chin as she thanked Merlin and Morgana that no one else had seen her in such a state. Except… she could imagine, oh gods, Bellatrix Black had to have taken the suppressant as well for it to work properly, and the image of the eldest Black sister winding up in the same position or worse had made her laughter start anew.</p><p>But it all came crashing down in awe at the sheer silence in her head, the emptiness except for her own thoughts and feelings- the suppressant bloody <em> worked</em>. She felt wholly herself; there was no other buzzing semblance of a presence alongside her own. Nothing <em> more </em>weighing on her, working its way through her veins, trying to influence her mind and actions that she had to fight against. It was more than lovely. And it meant she no longer had to spend her Thursday evenings with Bellatrix, placating the blood bond. So long as this suppressant kept working, and she had every faith in Narcissa that it would. Even if it had a few side-effects, she could deal with that far better than needing to go to Black Manor every week and see the witch who’d tortured her.</p><p>At the memory flashing through her mind, Hermione pulled her sleeve back to take a look at the scar. It hadn’t properly faded, but it wasn’t some angry, red, bleeding injury anymore. Still the same as it was a few weeks after the initial pain and aftereffects had settled. That would do for now. It would do perfectly well now that she could simply cast glamours and mostly forget about it since the bond was finally silenced.</p><p>She wished she could thank Narcissa in-person, but it was still too early. She could wait a couple more days.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>She’d more patience in her than Harry and Ron by a long shot, but... by her calculations, and based on what Narcissa had told her, her “period of indisposition” <em>should </em>be over by now. She’d undergone the process on Thursday, and it was now… yes, according to her calendar, it was Tuesday. Five days. Or soon to be five, depending on when exactly the dissolution of marriage vows had taken place. Hermione knew she <em>really </em>shouldn’t be thinking about this at all, she had her Occlumency lesson with Professor Snyde to get to this evening, and she’d made <em>progress</em> she wanted to demonstrate. But if she couldn’t properly compartmentalise this and clear her mind, she knew she was going to be in for it no matter how much she’d practised.</p><p>Supper in the Great Hall was nice enough, she supposed. Distracting enough, that was. She and Ginny talked about Ron a bit more- she learned that Harry was doing his best to smooth things over from his end of things as he was nearly always around Ronald, and Hermione had already had the chance to explain herself properly to Ginny.</p><p><em> “Can’t say it wouldn’t have been nice to have you as a sister-in-law, but… I can understand. I don’t want either of you to end up unhappily married, especially not to </em> each other<em>. Ron’ll… he’ll get over it. Past it. Find someone else. You will, too, Hermione- you’re certainly a catch now we’ve all grown up and into ourselves!” And Ginny had winked at her, and yeah… yeah, turned the brunette into a pile of goo for a few seconds before coming back to her rational self. She was weak for winking witches, apparently. </em></p><p>And then there was… Luna and Neville and Hannah, sitting together at the Hufflepuff table, presumably to make Hannah feel more at ease. Somewhat surprisingly, Hermione had found out that the three of them <em> were </em> giving it a go of things, but rather slowly which made all the sense in the world to her. She knew right off she’d not be fit for a triad or anything more than a committed relationship with one other person, but she had to give it to Neville and Hannah for being open to it at all. Neville… he did seem the right sort of wizard for it, though. Not in it simply for the sake of being with two witches. He was truly a caring and giving man with a heart of gold.</p><p>“Hey, Hermione, you’ve got that… what’s it called, advanced lessons with Professor Snyde tonight, don’t you? Auditing that mastery level book by Lackford, I mean?” Ginny asked after taking a swig of her pumpkin juice. Hermione thanked whatever gods there were out there that Ginny had much better table manners than Ronald did- she at least used a napkin to wipe her mouth instead of her bloody <em> sleeve</em>. Sure, they had magic and could cast a quick <em> scourgify </em>to clean their robes, but it didn’t mean they should cast off any and all manners! But... “Yes, the lessons… or rather, the auditing. Right, I do have that tonight. I should actually go and get prepared for it- thanks for reminding me, Ginny!”</p><p>With a slight ruffle to the top of younger witch’s ginger hair- which if she <em> had </em> to be honest with herself, was a more pleasing shade of red than Ron’s- Hermione left the Great Hall for the third floor, making a quick stop to the loo before going to see Professor Snyde for an hour that might turn into <em> over </em> an hour. One time was lesson enough for her, even if Andy had worked on further improving the bladder potion. It still… well, it was expected to have kinks to work out, first of its kind and all. She just had to roll with the punches. At least she had someone willing to ride them out with her, though she still had trouble wrapping her head around Narcissa acting so <em> calm </em>about that morning, so… unperturbed and comforting. But she was grateful nonetheless. Extremely so.</p><p>And with a cringe, she realised that she was right back where she started. Thinking about Narcissa instead of throwing herself into last minute efforts to clear her mind. She gulped as she knocked on the professor’s door, almost felt herself visibly <em> sweating </em>as she walked into the office after Professor Snyde called out with what Hermione was starting to surmise was her usual sharp intonation of, “Enter,” whenever someone came to her office.</p><p>Just as she settled her satchel onto the ground, she felt someone at the edge of her mind. She froze for a moment, shoving thoughts into appropriate makeshift shelving, a sort of library she’d created for herself, before recalling a sentence about the amalgamation of certain arithmantic equations with subsets of ancient Icelandic runes for creating effective wards that could withstand even most wandless magic. She sat in her chair, focusing most of her attention on visualising the wards described and repeating <em> amalgamation </em> in her mind. What she <em> needed </em>to accomplish, though, was holding a conversation without triggering… memories, feelings she didn’t want the professor to see. Keep them from leaking out unbidden.</p><p>“Professor,” she started as she pulled out the journal she’d been given. “How have you been?” Oh Merlin, this was a tad difficult. <em>Repeat the word, split attention. Distance from everything except the present. </em>The professor grinned and that damned presence was pressing in while Merula spoke a little about her day, violet eyes almost dancing with amusement. At least she wasn’t doing what she’d heard Snape had done to Harry. <em>Don’t think about that. </em>She shut it down, but it was such a strain. Her thoughts… <em>amalgamation,</em> <em>Hermione</em>.</p><p>“I’ve meant to ask you,” Hermione said, allowing herself to pluck one thing from the past, “Will we be covering Patronuses at some point?” She did her best to compartmentalise the exact memory, so- ah, but a bit had slipped out. Hermione felt the professor pick through it, seeing it as if she were standing there with the older witch, sifting through the tendrils of memory and feeling.</p><p><em> Amalgamation. Dammit. </em>And she’d almost felt the static sliding in that time. Well, better than she might have hoped for. This was so bloody strenuous and draining. She- she couldn’t hold it up anymore, the way the professor was so casually walking around. At least there were flickers of static among the-</p><p>“You’ll get there, Miss Granger,” the professor said as she withdrew from Hermione’s mind. “You are doing far better than anyone else your age I’ve come across before. You are aware that you don’t have to be perfect at everything the first time you try it, right?” She met the professor’s eyes, watched as she leaned her elbows against the top of her desk and rested her chin on the back of folded hands.</p><p>“Yes, I’m... aware, professor. I just- oh, you saw that?”</p><p>Professor Snyde chuckled softly. It was… rather pleasant to listen to. “Of course I did. Now, this may be forward of me, but- and I know I must work on it as well- we did agree last session to call each other by our first names while in here, yes? I’ve seen some of your memories, you’ve seen some of mine…” she lifted her hands in a half-shrug and grinned. Yeah, that did lend itself to growing rather intimate in a short amount of time, wasn’t it?</p><p>“Of course, I- just, well, it’s a bit difficult. Considering you’re still my professor, but I can try, Merula.” She felt herself flush and ducked her head for a moment, tucking loosened strands of curls behind her right ear before looking back at the other witch. Merula took a hand away from her face and wandlessly summoned a tray of biscuits, imploring Hermione to take some for herself.</p><p>As she chewed on a Honeydukes’ chocolate finger, she felt the prickling of a presence at her mind again. “Really?” she questioned. Merula shrugged.</p><p>“You don’t have to practice if you don’t wish to, Hermione,” the professor clarified. “I won’t go looking for anything damning. I won’t push and shove. Skilled enemies wouldn’t do that, anyway. They would be… subtle, and it helps you to at least come to understand what a new presence at and in your mind <em> feels </em>like. If worst comes to worst, you can cast a hex or jinx on the invader and banish them that way from your mind.”</p><p>“Oh, Harry told me about… using that with Professor Snape at least once. He reached memories that he didn’t want the professor to see. At all.” Hermione took a cup of tea that had come along with the tray, which she knew had to have been prepared by the house-elves in the kitchens- someone couldn’t just <em> conjure </em>food or drink that was filling. By now she intimately knew how to tell real food from conjured, considering she’d tried to find a way around it while they were hunting for Horcruxes in the British wilderness. As she added what she wanted to the drink, she felt the professor meandering through her library of compartmentalisation.</p><p>Professor Snyde hummed until she- oh, she’d found <em> that</em>. The professor’s presence withdrew and she shot Hermione a curious look, some measure of concern in it. “Lady Malfoy dissolved her marriage vows recently, then?” the Slytherin witch asked. Hermione nodded, taking another bite of biscuit. Merlin, they were excellent.</p><p>“She, er, yes. On Thursday sometime. Likely later that evening. Narcissa told me that she would be indisposed for a few days, so of course I’ve grown a tad… concerned,” she admitted lamely. She started a little when she felt a cool hand on top of one of her own that was resting on the desk. Merula’s hand wasn’t as smooth as Narcissa’s, was actually quite battle-worn like her own, but it was a comforting presence regardless. With a slow swallow and exhale, Hermione met Merula’s eyes again and corrected herself, “All right, more than a tad. More like really bloody worried I haven’t heard from her. Her sister, Andromeda, hasn’t been that forthcoming either, despite my two letters. I just- she says she’s doing okay, she’s still <em> alive</em>, getting better, but-”</p><p>Fingers caressed the back of her hand for a moment then slipped away almost as quickly. “But you’ve just gotten out of a bloody war, and so it’s natural to worry more about friends, Hermione. For months, none of you knew out there in the wilderness if your loved ones were alive, all you had… was that Potterwatch, and even that was spotty. If I were you, I’d bring this up to Mrs. Tonks. Take it from this Slytherin: our cunning can be used for good. You only want to check in on Lady… Black? Yes, that sounds much better.” The professor took her hand away and smirked.</p><p>“Enough of that, though- let’s get back to the reason you’re here for another… twenty minutes? Salazar, time goes by quickly.” Hermione had to share in that laughter. It was the best form of medicine, magical or Muggle, so long as there wasn’t any physical pain accompanying. She did remember how laughter hadn’t been good for her at <em> all </em>after her initial recovery from Dolohov’s curse.</p><p>Five minutes into another round of trying to fend Legilimency off, she groaned and let her head rest on top of the desk. She stretched her arms out, splaying her fingers, only to turn her head around to the side as she heard the professor’s chair scrape back against the floor. Dully watching as Merula came around her desk, she tensed up and then sighed as she felt hands on her shoulders. “First off, this does not leave this room. Do you understand?” Hermione tensed up for a moment more, then mumbled out a short verbal acknowledgement. </p><p>Merula applied pressure again. “Should ask Lady Malfoy to book you with a massage therapist, Hermione,” Merula said with a disapproving click of her tongue. “You’re coiled up like a spring ready to burst apart, which is no state to further attempt our lessons in. I could sense it in your mind, just beyond the… what did you call it? Static?”</p><p>Hermione clenched her hands into fists under the desk at the way the professor was uncoiling her knotted muscles. She was straining too much with this Occlumency- that wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Even if it felt way too good to have the professor’s hands massaging the stress and tightness of her muscles away. “Yes, that’s what I call it- the end effect I’m going for, that is,” she said, suppressing a soft pleased noise that wanted to spill out from between her lips at the tension disappearing from her muscles. “Let me show you what I mean exactly- you... you’ve done enough. I can take a potion to relieve the rest of it.”</p><p>The professor removed her hands and sat back down behind her desk, raising a brow at Hermione before nudging at her mind again. <em> Go ahead, </em> she thought, hoping it’d get across. It did. She pushed a memory towards the forefront of her mind, a memory when the bunny ears on their telly at home wouldn’t pick up a signal, resulting in that random dot pixel pattern that she called a static image along with its buzzing noise. <em> Like the telly, that box there my dad is messing with, is doing its own form of Occlumency, </em> she said inside of her mind. <em> Not showing the image it’s supposed to. Buzzing, droning on. Just… static. Near mindlessness. Does this make sense? </em></p><p>“It… does,” Merula said softly, tapping a finger against her lips. “Maggie showed me a… telly? Years ago, I nearly forgot about it. Essentially did. Didn’t know they could act up like that.” Hermione corrected her, explaining that it wasn’t really the television, but the antenna, or rabbit ears, bunny ears, not positioned correctly. The professor waved her off, but Hermione had to- “Wait! They’re… they’re not as bad now. A lot of people don’t even use antennas to receive programmes anymore. It’s… it’s better. I’ve got a telly at Grimmauld Place, and actually got it working in a magical household.”</p><p>Merula chuckled. “If you’re trying to get me to purchase one of those things…”</p><p>“I’m not, I swear! I just…”</p><p>“You’re protective of Muggle things like that. I know, I could see it in your mind, Hermione.” The older witch shrugged. “I can… understand, in a different manner. Now, we’ve got about five minutes left. Let’s work on entering <em> my </em> mind, flip it around. I’ll use the same techniques you have, just better.” She shot her a teasing grin and Hermione repressed a growl. She <em> had </em>to get better at this.</p><p>Five minutes later and… “Well, that was… a tad better than adequate. Compared to many others who were absolutely wretched when going through the Ministry examinations. You did a bit better than scrape by. Now… tell me, what did you see?”</p><p>Hermione sighed. “What you <em>wanted </em>me to see. Your favourite colour I presume is… violet, like those transfigured eyes of yours? That your mother taught you how to achieve before you started at Hogwarts?” As she progressed through the last sentence, she allowed the tugging on her lips to break into the full smirk she was dying to expose. She’d seen a young Merula work with her mother on transfigurations far beyond her years... far, <em>far </em>beyond. They didn’t get to discussing any sort of <em>human </em>transfigurations until sixth year at Hogwarts! The mere fact that the woman in front of her was changing the colour of her <em>eyes </em>and <em>keeping </em>that change for all of her waking hours by the age of <em>ten and a half</em> without the aid of being a metamorphmagus was a marvelous feat!</p><p>“Oh you little…” Merula shot her a wicked grin. “I wanted you to see the transfiguration during my Hogwarts years, make you think I learned it then. You managed to find and slip through my bloody cracks to see the truth, though. Mum… she was a Death Eater, yes, but she was brilliant.”</p><p>Softly, Hermione uttered, “I’m… glad you didn’t join them. The Death Eaters, I mean.”</p><p>“Would’ve been a shame, wouldn’t it?” the professor said, rubbing her fingers together. “Well, <em> Miss Granger</em>,” and she clapped her hands, “That’s all the time I’ve got for you tonight. You did better than I initially thought, but there’s still plenty of room for improvement. Continue reading those books I gave you on Occlumency, practice Occluding whenever you can without overtaxing yourself, and we’ll take another stab at it in a couple of weeks.”</p><p>“Right, Professor Snyde. Thanks for giving me an hour or so of your time,” she said, standing from the seat and pulling her satchel over her head to lay crossbody. Merula wandlessly opened the door for her, and she was off towards her quarters with only sleep on her mind.</p><p>Or that <em> was </em>the only thing on her mind until she reached her room and found another envelope from Andy sitting on her bed, this one unprompted instead of a response to something she’d sent. After dropping her satchel to the floor, she sliced it open with the tip of her wand, a slight spot of smoke rising from the force of the spell. She tossed the empty envelope onto the floor and jumped on her bed, lying splayed out on her stomach as she read.</p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em> Hermione, </em>
  </p>
  <p><em> Cissa will absolutely murder me… but as her older sister, I can and will slightly pull rank. While this is nothing exactly </em> new <em> to pure-bloods, I can tell she’s growing tired of only seeing me. Now, while I would </em> love <em> to have you physically here with us, she told me earlier about your lesson in seeing through your Patronus’ eyes, otherwise known as silver vision, or guardian’s sight. Try to use it to visit and see my sister when able, as she will likely be here until Saturday. You do have your lessons, after all, and please trust that I am taking care of her. It merely takes time, care, and dedication. </em></p>
  <p>
    <em> With care,<br/>Andy </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Oh, Merlin, how could she have forgotten that! Sitting up, she placed the letter on her bedside table and sat cross-legged on the covers. She glanced over at the large stack of shrunken books that she’d ordered from the Malfoy compendium and thought back to that time spent with Narcissa: the teasing, the way the other witch looked at her, <em> only </em> at her, with a gentle laughing smile…</p><p><em> “Expecto patronum!” </em> she called out, casting her otter into existence. She grinned at it, then with a locking and silencing charm on the room, she shifted on the bed slightly to get more comfortable before putting all of her focus into the Patronus. Finding Bellatrix… had been helped along by the bond, which now was suppressed to the point that it was like she couldn’t feel it at all, and it wasn’t pressing in on her anymore- gods, she’d almost completely forgotten about it entirely! But she and Narcissa held no blood bond, yet she’d… she had managed to send her Patronus with messages to Harry, Ron, and Ginny in the past. It couldn’t be <em> that </em>different. She focused on what she recalled of Narcissa’s magical energy and pushed forward with the intent to care for and protect, shutting her eyes so she could watch the journey of her otter Patronus in first-person view. It flashed through the Forbidden Forest southward, and it was almost dizzying to the point of nausea as it flashed through hundreds of kilometres at a time until… ah, Malfoy Manor it was.</p><p>Until… until this Saturday? Narcissa <em> had </em>to get better by then, at least. But it was still only Tuesday. That meant… potentially almost four more full days of whatever the witch was being put through for... for having the so-called “audacity” to divorce her absolute pillock of a husband! At least Muggle marriage vows weren’t that barbaric to leave either party “indisposed,” which she still wasn’t exactly sure what that all entailed and it was so bloody frustrating, not knowing!</p><p>Her otter was in the front foyer of Malfoy Manor, and the place… looked different. <em> Well, of course it’ll look </em> different <em> , </em>she told herself. As if the Narcissa she knew would want to live in a place that looked exactly the same as it had while Riddle had hold over it! Instead of shadows and cobwebs and a general sickly green malaise to the atmosphere, it was… brighter, yet still wrapped in a certain kind of loneliness. She shook her head- the otter’s head at the same time, and focused anew on Narcissa’s magical signature. Up a flight of stairs from the foyer, past two- no, three- corridors, take a left… several rooms down, and- ah. A cracked doorway with some candlelight spilling out of it.</p><p>Passing through the door entirely, she used this… this guardian’s sight and carefully approached a prone, sleeping form lying on a king-sized bed. There was a whole host of potions scattered atop both bedside tables, and the woman, it <em> had </em> to be Narcissa, even if she couldn’t make out distinguishing features- even if, oh an alarm was ringing, but the form wasn’t… wasn’t moving? Hermione dashed her otter to the other side of the room as a door burst open and a haggard-looking Andromeda came rushing in, pulling the covers off and- and <em> this </em>was Narcissa?</p><p>Hermione barely managed to keep her own eyes shut so she could stay in her Patronus. She grit her teeth and refocused on the happy memory, but she made a whining sound as she strained to keep it tinged with the happiness that would keep her Patronus corporeal. Andromeda’s head jerked around, spotting the otter. She blinked, cracked what was barely any semblance of a smile, then turned her complete attention on her sister again. Hermione edged her otter closer until she could discern-</p><p>Narcissa was as pale as death, sweating but shivering as well. She twitched as Andromeda cast on her, reading what her wand printed out. From the look on Andy’s face, it wasn’t good at all. The older Black sister swore, gathered several potions together and began to tip each one-by-one into Narcissa’s mouth, which the woman barely blinked her eyes open for, swallowing by reflex. Hermione settled her otter down onto the bed and somehow managed to pad it over next to Narcissa’s covered form, curling up against, trying to send some of the Lightness from her Patronus into the blonde witch. She could almost swear she felt splintered magic from Narcissa, a slight yet building ache and open wound from the dissolution.</p><p>She would stay here for at least a few more minutes. Then, she’d try to get some sleep and do whatever she needed to get here in-person tomorrow morning.</p><p><em> “I’m coming later, whether you two like it or not,” </em>she murmured through her otter before snuggling it closer into Narcissa’s side. She felt warmth and Light magic seep from her Patronus, doing its all to protect and guard this witch that she loved.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hermione travels to malfoy manor to help andromeda take care of narcissa after the dissolution of her marriage vows.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>happy femslash february, y'all! 💛 this chapter may... be the longest one yet? and there's a bit of smut at the end of it. solitary smut. (i actually did not intend the publishing of this chapter or the next to fall on this month, so it's merely a happy coincidence lol.)</p><p>also: a warning that there is mention of forced abortion/termination of pregnancy in this chapter. it does not happen to anyone in the story, though, but it is briefly talked of. if you want to skip that part, it's marked off by centered horizontal rules.</p><p>and as usual, thanks to Erin26_94 for beta reading. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione Granger was not one to make use of her status as a war heroine. That was something she’d made evident immediately after the war ended and Ministry positions, as well as countless other offers, came to her before they even had the chance to cast restrictions on their incoming mail at Grimmauld Place. Honestly, it didn’t feel like it’d be anything more than profiting off… well, something that should have never happened in the first place. In a better world, she would have had seven completely normal years at Hogwarts, with perhaps a less mad inciting incident that would have glued her and the boys together. Perhaps they would have come to the library and properly apologised to her instead of saving her from a bloody <em>troll</em>. Less flashy, certainly, but it would have been leagues safer than nearly getting killed in one of the girls’ loos in their first year.</p><p>But this, she told herself as she walked to the Headmistress’s office early on Wednesday morning, her eyes still somewhat bloodshot from lack of sleep, <em>this</em> time if she had to bring it up, it was for a good reason. Not for herself, but to take care of, or at least <em>be there </em>for someone who has been there for her. She’d even gotten together all of her textbooks as well as a few other books from her quarters so she’d have things to do after completing her coursework. And it would only be through the end of this week at the most. It wasn’t as if she’d not already taken on even more in the past, considering the usage of the Time-Turner during her third year. She had this, she told herself. She did. No trouble at all. So then why was she feeling so… anxious? <em>You’re asking for too much, </em>a little voice in her head whispered to her.</p><p>“Anima symbios,” she uttered to the statue guarding the entrance to Headmistress McGonagall’s office and quarters, grateful more than ever for the agreement that she would receive two or three worded notes, password changes, from the Headmistress each fortnight, should she ever need to speak on anything with Professor McGonagall. That level of trust should be enough to quiet that damnable voice. She sighed, letting the charmed staircase inside take her upwards until- ah, was that… Fleur’s voice? What was-</p><p>“Enter, Miss Granger,” the professor’s voice warmly called out a few seconds later. Hermione took another moment before pushing the door open, peeking around to confirm that it <em>was</em> Fleur before she entered. Merlin, she hadn’t seen the quarter-Veela witch since the war ended, since she and Bill had taken some time off and travelled to France and Merlin knew where else. For someone who would never tan as Hermione could, Fleur had a rather healthy glow to her pale skin regardless. She gave her a small smile before taking a seat next to the pale blonde witch. “My apologies for interrupting,” she started.</p><p>“It is quite all right, Miss Granger,” the Headmistress assured. “I believe you and Mrs. Delacour-Weasley know of each other?”</p><p>“Hello, Hermione,” Fleur greeted her, reaching out to rest a hand around Hermione’s left elbow… above the cursed scar Bellatrix had given her. Hermione slid her eyes towards Fleur and gave her a better smile, but it was still somewhat strained. She hadn’t been quite ready to see the French witch so suddenly. And blimey, the woman had nearly perfected her English accent- she’d been too out of it before to realise. But she- she had to say something back, didn’t she?</p><p>“Hey, Fleur,” she said, “I hope you’ve been well? And,” she flitted her gaze over to McGonagall, “Again, I’m sorry for interrupting, but I wanted to ask if I could take until the end of this week away from the castle to handle… some personal issues.” She tugged nervously at the hem of one her Gryffindor robe sleeves. “I can get my work from my professors and do it on my own. If that… if it’s agreeable with you?” She didn’t even try to attempt any puppy dog eyes because that would only be an insult to the professor, and it wasn't like her to seriously do something like that in the first place.</p><p>The Headmistress seemed to consider her request for a moment, then laughed a little and informed, “Miss Granger, if you wanted, you could complete your entire seventh-year curriculum through distance owl post learning. You may certainly take these next three days to handle whatever you need. I will send owls to your professors to let them know that you have excused absences until Monday and will have them send your lesson work to you. If you need any more time, please inform me by Sunday afternoon.”</p><p>With that, she was dismissed even as her heart still pounded in her chest, and even though she was extremely curious about why Fleur Delacour-Weasley was in the office, she didn’t dare chance to ask. Fleur merely squeezed her arm before standing up and hugging her, air-kissing both of her cheeks. Though Hermione knew that was simply normal for the French, she still couldn’t help but flush slightly because this was <em>Fleur</em>. She cleared her throat, did the same for Fleur in return, and exited the office as calmly as possible before taking the staircase back down and out into the corridor.</p><p>“Bloody hell,” she muttered to herself, taking a chance to lean against the stone wall near the statue. “Get yourself <em>together</em>, Granger.” She found it beyond fortunate that she was out far too early to run into anyone except perhaps Filch, but the caretaker had grown a tad more subdued after the war, and around <em>him</em>? Well, she wasn’t put off using her status if it came down to it. And then there was Peeves, though he hadn’t caused her any trouble so far and she was hoping to achieve a record of at least a full month without the poltergeist taking the piss out of her. With that worrisome thought of Peeves somehow finding her alone in the castle this morning, she hurried back to Gryffindor Tower to pack her things in her school satchel. Thankfully, she’d already thought to fit it with an undetectable extension charm.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Malfoy Manor looked positively changed in the soft glow of morning sunlight. It seemed that either Narcissa, Draco, or both of them had decided to in no short terms spruce the exterior up. Though the relatively pleasant weather and only slightly cloudy skies helped tremendously, the tall and overpowering hedges that previously lined the walkway up to the entrance had been trimmed down so that they only rose to Hermione’s knees. It gave the manor’s gardens a much more relaxed and open atmosphere, the walls let down and the rest of the greenery in some state between tidiness and free-roaming range. She could finally<em> see</em> instead of simply hear the two fountains to either side of the hedges, and the imposing iron gates and fencing were gone, leaving only wards that shimmered before her as she came closer to the manor. Though Hermione knew that Narcissa would have removed or altered any wards that were anti-Muggle-born, she still let out a breath of relief when she was able to walk right through them, no harm done to her person.</p><p>The wards still alerted the household to her presence though, because before she could even reach the topmost step leading to the entry door it opened and revealed Andromeda Tonks. The older woman leaned against the doorframe, robe messily pulled about her body as she waved Hermione inside, a tired smile on her face. As she entered the foyer, Hermione’s eyes were drawn about her surroundings, something she hadn’t had the privilege of the last time she’d… been here. Against her will. She shivered, her heart lurching in her chest until she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders, squeezing comfortingly. A slight sense of comfort came over her from the contact and she felt some of the tension leave her body.</p><p>“Impossible to keep a Gryffindor like yourself away, yes?” Andy murmured. “Too forthright and headstrong for your own good. But I… I will deal with my sister if she has any unkind words for you, Hermione. Do forgive her if so- she has been thoroughly rattled by the aftermath of the dissolution of those bloody marriage vows.”</p><p>Her heart hammering in her chest again, eyes flitting about the home as they walked towards the stairs to the second floor, Hermione noticed something missing: the entrance to the parlour room where she’d been tortured. “I…” she halted in her steps, turning to where she <em>thought </em>she remembered the location of the room. “There’s a room missing.” A simple statement. She shifted her gaze from a somehow eerily familiar blank wall to Andromeda, who was biting her lip in a tell-tale fashion. “Where did… where did the parlour room go, Andy?”</p><p>Andromeda pressed her lips together, casting her gaze downwards for a moment. When she met Hermione’s eyes again, she softly said, “Narcissa cast an invisibility spell on it, due to…” she trailed off and cleared her throat. “She informed me on my arrival, as I sensed her spellwork in the general area and… pushed.” By the hint of grimace on Andy’s face, Hermione felt it better than to push Andy as it appeared she had done to her younger sister.</p><p>“Ah… well, then,” Hermione scuffed her feet along the spotless flooring, almost ready to hear Narcissa rush out of some room and tell her off for the action. She wanted to ask <em>why </em>Narcissa had cast the spell on the parlour, but at the same time felt it wasn’t her place to do so right now. Or Andy’s, for that matter, to talk about. Instead, she let Andromeda know that she’d gotten permission to stay through the rest of the week, and with a well-placed question as to what was happening with Tonks and Teddy while she was here taking care of Narcissa, Andy began to tell her about the story of the strange friendship between Professor Snyde and Nymphadora Tonks.</p><p>“So, she’s staying with the professor for the time being?” Hermione asked, still trying to process that Merula Snyde and Tonks were mates, and had been since some time in their sixth or seventh year at Hogwarts. It wasn’t that she thought Slytherin and Hufflepuff friendships were odd, the story of Andromeda Black and Edward Tonks was proof enough that such friendships could turn into a loving marriage, but… still.</p><p>Andromeda smiled wistfully. “Yes, as Merula offered in place of the Weasleys, and… I know it’ll do her good, being with someone her own age. Though I can only imagine how frustrated Merula will be by Sunday afternoon latest. That child never did have much patience, and Teddy requires it in spades.” Hermione giggled at Andy referring to the professor as a child; it was still difficult for her to imagine the woman as anything but a grown witch, and an admittedly attractive one at that.</p><p>Somehow, during the course of the conversation, they’d reached the same cracked open door that Hermione had come through via her Patronus the previous day. As she opened her mouth to thank Andromeda for helping to distract her on the way through the manor, essentially preventing a full-blown panic attack, Andy shook her head and shushed her gently. “Come now, my sister is just in here.” Hermione nodded, trying to steel herself for anything on the other side of the door.</p><p>When the door opened, Hermione saw that Narcissa was lying facing away from the doorway, and as they drew closer to the bed Andy exhaled as if relieved. The youngest Black sister was breathing deep and evenly, fast asleep, and the covers were drawn up to her jawline, loosened blonde hair splayed out around her. She shifted slightly underneath, and Hermione saw her eyelids fluttering. Narcissa was dreaming.</p><p>“Hopefully she’s having pleasant dreams,” Hermione found herself saying, tone soft as she barely turned her head to address Andromeda. A hand came up to play with her hair and she looked directly at the woman standing next to her, smiling openly.</p><p>“I’m terribly sorry to bother you so, but I daresay I haven’t been able to get much sleep myself since last Thursday, Hermione. I may have had… my own reasons for inviting you yesterday. Even in that other form.” Fingers trailed through her curls and Andromeda looked almost embarrassed. “If it’s not much trouble, would you mind watching over my baby sister while I sleep in the next room over? I’ll be right there if you absolutely need me, but I’ve left notes and I know you’re a capable witch.”</p><p>If she weren’t afraid to wake Narcissa from what may have been the most peaceful and restful slumber she’d had since the prior Thursday, Hermione might have outright laughed. Cunning bloody Slytherins, the lot of them! She couldn’t suppress the quiet chuckle, though, that escaped her as she assured, “It’s not any trouble at all, Andy. I’ve got my schoolwork, parchment work to read from the BSRA meeting, and I’d like to write down the differences I’ve felt between the bond before the suppressant and afterwards to give to your sister when she’s better again. And I can and will keep an eye on her while I work.” She smiled as Andy patted her on the shoulder and left them be, softly shutting the door to the hall behind her.</p><p>Once she heard the click of another door shut nearby, Hermione found a desk and chair situated on the other side of the bedroom. With careful casting, she was able to levitate both closer to the bed, next to one of the bedside tables near Narcissa, and gently set both back onto the floor. She would move them back to their original positions later when she was assuming Narcissa would take note of it and probably say something about redecorating without her express permission. The thought of Narcissa like that, imagining her finding the desk and chair even <em>centimetres </em>off from where she wanted them… gods, it had her smiling like a bit of a dolt in spite of the current situation.</p><p>Seated in the desk chair, she looked over at Narcissa’s sleeping form before gingerly pulling out her lesson work for the next few days, separating them into subjects and by day. Potions and Charms came first. They were finishing brewing Scintillating Solution in Potions, something that would cause sparks of extraordinary wit and wisdom for up to twenty-four hours, depending on the strength of the potion and how much was taken, though there was a strict limit on how much before it would lead to overdose. Professor Slughorn wrote her that he would keep her own potion on stasis to finish the next week with him during a shared free period, but that he hoped she had a cauldron and access to ingredients for Friday’s lesson, which was… oh dear, Essence of Insanity. As for Charms, Professor Flitwick had sent work for casting the drought charm, something she remembered Ronald and Harry considering for the second task during the Tri-Wizard tournament, but cast it aside as it wouldn’t work on large bodies of water.</p><p>Hermione settled in for the next half-hour, reading further in Advanced Potion-Making, Vol. 2, to discern key facts on Scintillating Solution, especially noting the sharp turn one had to make in clockwise to counterclockwise stirring lest one wished to have their potion turn out completely useless. She was able to take some great notes, but her head started to acquire that telltale <em>itch </em>to it- not a physical itch, thank Merlin, but more of a desire, an urge to do something else, like… she simply couldn’t concentrate as she wanted to. Biting her lip, she looked up at Narcissa who was still sleeping, though she didn’t know for how long she had already been asleep. Could she wake at any moment?</p><p>Five more minutes passed before Hermione couldn’t take it anymore; she turned and snaked her way out of the chair without scraping it against the polished wooden flooring. Andy had asked her to watch over Narcissa, but it wasn’t like she couldn’t take a moment to leave for say, the loo, right? She needed to practice that drought charm, and filling a sink with some water and stopping it up seemed the best course of action for now. It wouldn’t take long.</p><p>Fortunately, a toilet was only a few doors down, and as she entered the spacious full-bath, her lips parted at the sheer extravagance of the facilities. Natural stone flooring that felt plush carpet soft to her feet, what looked like it might be African blackwood that was used in various places to complement the stone, a deep marble sink, a somehow elegantly simple toilet and bidet, a glass-enclosed shower that one could fit a group of three in comfortably, and a large free-standing bathtub surrounded by cabinetry that surely held a whole host of magical soaps and shampoos. Finally, Hermione managed to gather her wits about her again and turned the faucet on over the sink, filling it until the water was nearly at the top of the basin.</p><p>With her Charms text levitating to the right of the sink, she studied the wand movement and incantation, practising the complex movement without the casting several times before her first attempt… which, well, it got rid of <em>some </em>of the water in the sink. Which was… something? Tangible progress, at least. She let the water run out, then refilled it to make sure that none of her magic stuck around to potentially influence her next attempt. Her next <em>success</em>, she told herself as she stopped the water again and enunciated more clearly, changed the wand movement a bit- and, yes! It was… oh, she looked closer, bending over the basin, and found a tiny amount of water still left over.</p><p>Well, she… she’d tried. And likely gotten farther than her classmates would in the lesson later today, but without any of her classmates to compare to it felt a bit of a letdown. She let the small amount of water out, used the loo to quiet the small tugging of the potion, and found her way back to Narcissa’s room, thankfully still finding the other witch asleep. Andy’s room next door was quiet as well, and as she softly tapped her foot against the ground, glancing about her surroundings, it came to her- she didn’t <em>have </em>to stay here, she only needed to use the guardian’s sight of her otter Patronus… so long as she could get down pat the ability to keep her eyes open while <em>also </em>seeing through the otter’s translucent eyes. If that was even possible… Narcissa hadn’t exactly told her, but it had to be, right? Somehow?</p><p>Another hour and a half passed as she attempted it, over and over and <em>over </em>until she groaned in frustration and leftover slight pain- as a few times she’d fallen down some steps while trying to accomplish seeing through two different sets of eyes at once. She was sure it was possible somehow but didn't have the patience to try again yet. She sat back in the room Narcissa was in, applying an advanced bruise-healing paste to her skin, watching in some morbid fascination as it went through all the colours of a healing bruise within less than a couple of minutes before her skin was back to its normal tanned tone. She looked over at Narcissa again, watching as the older woman turned, facing her with her eyes still shut, though her eyelids had stopped fluttering. No longer dreaming, then.</p><p>Hermione’s fingers grasped at her knees as desires washed over her; she <em>wanted </em>to go sit on the bed by Narcissa, <em>wanted </em>to trail her fingers through her blonde hair, <em>wanted </em>to stroke the woman’s pale cheekbone. But she was here to watch over her, not act like she was the witch’s bloody girlfriend who had any right to touch her even chastely, comfortingly, during her sleep. But gods was the woman gorgeous, and Merlin spare her, she was stunning even in sleep, even as her lips were slightly parted, the slimmest bit of drool at the edge of them. Even though the pallor of her skin wasn’t as healthy as it usually appeared. She wanted- she- but then Narcissa shifted slightly again, making a soft noise that simply <em>did </em>things to Hermione, left her- did she bring that bloody picture?</p><p>She grit her teeth and shook her head- she would not rub one out to that old Wizarding photograph of Narcissa as a sixth or seventh-year in the Slytherin Common Room. She would <em>not</em>! Tossing that terrible idea aside, even if she <em>were </em>to find some far-off room in the manor, it wasn’t how she typically did things, and so she rummaged about in her satchel, finding one of the House Curse books she’d borrowed from the Library at Carnmin. She had yet to tell Narcissa about these but hadn’t found a reason so far. She read from it as well as some BSRA parchments, making notes in the margins until her stomach started to incessantly growl a couple of hours later.</p><p>Fortunately, when she knocked on Andy’s door, the woman looked fairly better rested upon answering and called upon a house-elf named Tansly- also known as Tans, she was informed- who would help her with lunch preparations. “And remember, Tans,” Andromeda had told the creature, “you’re to respond to Hermione as you do to Narcissa and me now. She is a valued guest.” The house-elf had dutifully nodded her head, and now a few hours later as Narcissa started to show telltale signs of waking, Hermione called Tans to watch over her while she went to Andromeda’s room, waking the woman again from a nap she’d laid down for after eating her own lunch following Hermione’s.</p><p>“Oh, Merlin, I hope she’s...” Andy murmured, gathering up a satchel perched on her own bedside table, hurrying about and checking supplies before heading into Narcissa’s room. Hermione held back, leaning against the patch of wall separating the two bedroom doors, though much closer to the one leading into where the other two witches were currently. She couldn’t quite make out exactly what was being said between Narcissa and Andy, but she could tell that Narcissa’s voice was the rougher one from just waking up. Hermione’s heart stuttered in her chest when, after another couple of minutes, Andy’s voice drifted out, asking her to come inside.</p><p>When she stepped into the doorway, she caught Narcissa’s side and back as she sat up with the covers wrapped around her, her body angled towards Andy as she hissed out, “Didn’t I <em>tell </em>you not to-”</p><p>“Tell her not to what?” Hermione questioned, crossing her arms over her chest, leaning against the doorframe. Both Black sisters turned to face her- Andy’s lips twitched as if holding back some sort of smirk, while Narcissa’s cheeks were tinged with a light dusting of pink, her lips pressed into a thin line- and the younger pulled the covers closer to her before saying, “You should be at Hogwarts, Hermione.”</p><p>At that, Hermione crossed the threshold into the room and with a flourish of her wand, had the desk chair turned about and sat down backwards on it, grateful she’d changed out of uniform and into trousers so she could sit like this without exposing herself. “That doesn’t answer my question, you know.”</p><p>“And that is <em>not </em>the proper way to sit in a chair, young lady,” Narcissa almost spluttered out, and Hermione cracked a grin as she swore she noticed the pink tinge darken on Narcissa’s cheeks. Hermione shrugged. “Blame it on me being an uncultured Muggle-born if you must. You’re still deflecting, but if it <em>helps</em>…” she stood back up with a shrug, swinging one leg over the chair, and turned it about until she could sit in it properly with her legs crossed. “Now then. You said you would be ‘somewhat indisposed’ for a few days. It’s been nearly a <em>week</em>, Narcissa. What sort of rubbish marriage vows did you <em>have</em> to wind up bedridden?”</p><p>Narcissa rubbed at her temples and took the proffered vial Andy almost instantaneously held out towards her, downing it in two gulps, though Hermione didn’t miss the wince she made, presumably at the foul taste. The middle Black sister, for her part, was shifting her eyes in rapt interest back and forth between the two of them which Hermione keenly took note of.</p><p>“Simply put… they were Malfoy vows,” Narcissa stated as if it truly were that simple.</p><p>Hermione let her head fall forward a bit, drumming a couple of her fingers against the space between her eyebrows. “You are aware that I’m not all that familiar with pure-blood families and their customs…”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Narcissa sighed, and Hermione didn’t fail to notice the tight expression on the woman’s face. “The Malfoys, historically, are not fond of the so-called fairer sex beyond our capabilities to... <em>provide</em> in a myriad of ways, one of which is to carry their heirs. While all pure-blood families desire a male heir to carry on the House name, Malfoys thus far will <em>only </em>accept male heirs, and they prefer to stop at one. If a female is conceived, and it shows on the pregnancy spellwork-” Narcissa’s breath caught for a moment, and Andy moved closer to her sister, wrapping an arm around her and rubbing soothing motions into the sleeve covering Narcissa’s arm. “Lucius, I hope would not have done this, he strongly insinuated in front of his own father that he would not stand for it if I <em>had</em> ever carried a girl, but... as the tales go, the mother would- would have to take a potion to terminate the-”</p><p>Hermione gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. Oh god she- she felt so <em>sick </em>suddenly, she- and then there was a vial in front of her eyes, and she glanced up to see Andy in front of her. “Stomach calming draught,” she gently murmured. Hermione gratefully took the vial and greedily drank from it. She blinked after a few moments and exhaled heavily. When she looked back up, she found both women looking at her, trying to gauge any further reaction. Hermione curled her fingers inward, digging nails into her palms, emotions tearing her into pieces, ripping her in different directions-</p><p>“Hermione…” Narcissa began.</p><p>“Stop.” She couldn’t- “I- sorry, I- I’m going for a bloody walk.”</p><p>What she really wanted to do was rip apart this entire bloody manor, room by room, expensive decoration by decoration. She’d foolishly left her wand behind on the desk, though, and although she knew her anger was not directed towards the two other witches, she couldn’t trust her own emotions right now. And to <em>think </em>that pure-bloods believed they were <em>superior </em>to Muggle-borns and Muggles! Certainly, Muggles were chock full of their own violent tendencies against women as well as infanticide in pockets of the world, but to think that a family like the <em>Malfoys </em>had been allowed to do this sort of… horrendous act to the women they married- Hermione blasted open a back door with a burst of emotional magic and ran out into some far reach of the rear gardens until she was gasping for breath.</p><p>She sank down to the ground, holding her knees as she knelt. Her anger towards the Malfoy line turned into anger towards Narcissa’s parents for letting their daughter be married into such a wretched family. They had to have known, a voice remarked in her head, and they essentially <em>sold</em> their own daughter into a marriage that… that would get rid ofany female grandchildren before they- before…</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>A wisp of something brushed around her ankles and Hermione fully fell back onto her arse with a yelp, pushing herself backwards until she hit something solid. She jerked her head around and noticed she’d ran back against a stone garden wall enclosing several plants and flowers within. When she turned back around, she spotted what had brushed up against her: a Patronus… a… an Arctic fox Patronus. She licked her lips and swallowed as it came closer, gently headbutting the side of her trouser-clad knee.</p><p>“I cannot keep this up for much longer, darling,” Narcissa’s voice came from the Patronus, “and I- <em>we</em>- understand that you are upset. I was not about to defend the Malfoys, do understand that. Please do a recovering witch the favour of coming back inside to us- to... <em>Please</em>.”</p><p>Hermione nodded dumbly, whispering a truly penitent apology as she pushed herself back up onto her knees. She watched as the fox began to walk back in the direction of the manor before dissipating entirely, leaving her with a lonely feeling that was centred in the middle of her chest like a tightly wound ball of yarn. Narcissa’s Patronus was a… white fox. She hummed to herself at how much that made sense. And the thing had rubbed against her, headbutted her in a way that felt wholly affectionate- she’d not seen a Patronus do that before, and yesterday was the first time she’d experienced doing anything like it with hers. It was clear that she still had plenty to learn about Patronus magic.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>A blast of cold air jolted her awake, drawing an embarrassing yelp from her throat. She- oh sodding hell, where was she? She put her head in her hands and groaned, licking the inside of her mouth, tongue swiping along her teeth. When she looked back up, straight at the ceiling, she rolled her head to the left, then to the right and… “Ohhh, Merlin.” Narcissa was lying in bed, turned so she was facing her. And awake.</p><p>“I would say ‘good morning,’ but it is only a bit past one and I’ve slept barely a wink. <em>You </em>were about to fall out of that chair, I am in need of potions, and someone needed to wake you up before further disaster- yes, that,” Narcissa noted as Hermione clenched her jaw, rubbing at the slight crick that had developed in her neck, “happened. As you are so... adamant that you must spend the next two or so days here, giving my sister a chance to… rest, I cannot have you hurting yourself in the process.”</p><p>Hermione slid her tongue between her teeth and nodded, biting back unhelpful comments. She verified with Narcissa as to which potions she needed, gathered them together on a tray and sat down next to her on the edge of the mattress, handing them to her one at a time until all of them were taken. Once she’d banished the empty vials to a basket in Andromeda’s room, where they’d be refilled in the morning or afternoon, Hermione started to push herself off the mattress, wondering if she should even ask Narcissa for the name of the healing spell she’d used on her the last time she’d developed an even worse crick at Black Manor. The woman had been and clearly <em>was </em>still peeved at her for not budging last night on the idea of going back to Hogwarts, but she was pulled from her thoughts by a slender hand wrapping around her forearm.</p><p>“Wait… allow me to heal you,” Narcissa softly intoned. Hermione stayed where she was, partially between sitting on the mattress and standing, and turned her head to look back at Narcissa through her peripheral vision.</p><p>“You’re not strong enough yet, especially after extending your magic so much for me yesterday,” she reminded Narcissa before tugging her arm away. “Just… just tell me the spell you used, and I’ll…” she stood up to her full height, facing Narcissa. “I’ll cast it on myself. Or I can deal with it like a Muggle would with a cold compress. Certainly won’t kill me.” She shrugged and sat back down on the desk chair, then added, “Also, you’re going to grow drowsier by the minute if those potions work correctly. Tell me before you fall asleep again.”</p><p>Narcissa pinched her nose and furrowed her brow. “Fine. But I must see you cast it, and you must promise to transfigure that chair, desk, or both into a bed for yourself. A comfortable bed, if you can manage it. If that chair and desk must be in such a horrid position within this room for the time being, the least we can do is take proper advantage of it.” Hermione retorted that she could <em>more than manage</em> to transfigure either or both into a comfortable bed, and once Narcissa taught her the healing spell she cast it, biting back a moan of relief at the sensation. Afterwards, she transfigured a bed, a “bloody comfy one at that,” she jibed towards Narcissa, but upon turning to see her reaction noticed that the woman had already fallen asleep. She was torn between thankfulness that the potions had worked and a tad put out that she hadn’t gotten the chance to shove this rather mundane achievement in Narcissa’s face.</p><p>What eventually won out was her own need for sleep. After discarding her boots, she crawled under the Gryffindor red covers she’d transfigured and burrowed her head into the pillow. It was extraordinarily more comfortable than the chair she’d fallen asleep in earlier, but despite that it still took her brain ten minutes to catch up with her exhaustion and fall asleep. She watched as Narcissa’s chest rose and fell with the woman’s breaths, still tempted to join her, but it would do her injuries and recovery no good. She needed space, and it wasn’t as if the other time they’d slept in the same bed together had been simply because they <em>wanted</em> to, but out of Narcissa’s kindness and capacity to extend comfort to her. And with that memory, she remembered to take her next dose of the bladder potion that Andy had worked a bit more on. It still tasted like shit, maybe even more so. But if it worked…</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Her rest lasted about three and a half hours before she was jerked awake by a house-elf- by <em>Tans</em>, more specifically. The creature immediately apologised for waking her so rudely, but thankfully that’s as far as the apology went- she didn’t go to pound her head against anything and didn’t look ready to go burn her own hands in the dimly lit fireplace that now barely warmed the room. She only asked, or more so <em>begged </em>for her to help Mistress Cissa, and Hermione blanked until her brain caught up with the nickname. Once it registered in her mind, she jolted up, catching sight of-</p><p>“Oh no, oh- oh <em>Merlin</em>, Narcissa!” Hermione launched herself out of the bed, cast an invisible barrier on the ends and sides of the bed so she wouldn’t fall off, and started rummaging through the potions laying about when suddenly her own shrill voice came back to her in memories of urging Harry after Ron had been splinched (<em>“Quickly!”</em>). She swiftly produced her wand, casting an “<em>Accio </em>Annona muricata salve!” to procure the vial needed for helping ease and control the aftereffects of the seizure. She clenched her jaw and tried to remember the other potion, the- the, “<em>Accio </em>groundsel solution!” She turned Narcissa onto her side, directly casting the decoction of groundsel into Narcissa’s stomach, praying to any and all gods, Merlin and Morgana and <em>whomever </em>else might be out there, that this would work to ease Narcissa out of the seizure.</p><p>It was a dreadfully slow and wretchedly painful half-minute as Narcissa’s body seemed to take forever to respond to the potion. She wanted to absolute <em>murder </em>Lucius Malfoy- she, oh gods, her breath caught as Narcissa’s body responded, coming down from the seizure, her limbs no longer uncontrollably jerking. Hermione had fallen to the floor at her bedside, head now resting in the space between crossed arms that lay on the mattress. After an impossibly long minute or two, Hermione felt a hand rest itself in her hair, fingers playing with the locks.</p><p>“Thank you, love,” Narcissa whispered, her voice rough before she made to clear it. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”</p><p>Hermione lifted her head, staring down the other woman as she asserted, “Don’t you dare apologise for something out of your control. Is this… what you and Andy spoke of, your magic reacting to the blood bond between you and… <em>him</em>, dissolving?”</p><p>“In short, yes.” Narcissa idly reached out for her hair again and ran her fingers through it, a pained look crossing her face. “I- I didn’t want you to see me like this, Hermione… I am in such a wretched state.”</p><p>Furrowing her eyebrows, Hermione reached for Narcissa’s other hand and grasped it softly as she used some of her wandless magic to summon a jar and began rubbing the salve onto Narcissa’s arms with her free hand.</p><p>“As if you haven’t seen me in ways I didn’t want others to see,” she said, attempting for a light delivery as she worked, “but…” she lowered her voice, taking on a more serious tone, “it turned out I <em>needed </em>that. I don’t know where I’d be now if you hadn’t learned the extent of what Bellatrix did to me. You’ve got Andy, but you don’t have to keep me away from seeing you like this, Narcissa. She clearly overexerted herself and needed to rest, and I- I merely want to return a little of the care you’ve shown me.” And though she knew it was slightly hypocritical of her to say it considering her own track record of keeping things from others, she continued, “You should have told me more about this so I could have arranged to come sooner.”</p><p>Narcissa squeezed her hand, then drew it towards her lips and lazily pressed them to the skin; a pleasurable shock shot through Hermione at the intimate contact. Merlin, she wanted to crawl into bed with her so, so badly. But even if Narcissa would welcome it, she couldn’t. Not right now.</p><p>“I… am so sorry, darling. You are right. I essentially treated you as a child to be protected from seeing me like this, when I should have treated you as…” she paused, her eyes averting Hermione’s for a moment. “That is, I should have realised you do not need that sort of coddling. It was… insecurity on my part, disguised as wanting to spare you from this sight. I,” she hesitated again, then continued, “When I am better, will you allow me the pleasure of taking you to see the seaside cottage I plan on moving into? You can aid me in setting up the Floo connection if you would like.” The blue of Narcissa’s eyes gleamed with affection and Hermione nodded, easily coming to her decision. She <em>had </em>wanted to see how exactly a Floo connection was set up; she had read of the process, but hadn’t seen it done in-person. And it had been ever so long since she had properly been to the English seaside.</p><p>It sounded lovely.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>“Feels odd to not have to see your older sister tonight,” Hermione remarked as she pushed about some of the stray peas on her dinner plate. She and Andromeda were taking their meal together in a small dining area that she was told had been used by the three Malfoys before Tom Riddle had taken up residence. “Odd, but good?” She worried at her lip, wanting to slap herself at the way she’d accidentally phrased it as a question. “I mean, it<em> is</em> good, I never thought I'd have to see her that much after the battle, though I knew I’d have to testify at trial if she lived through it. And I’ll still have to, I suppose.” She grimaced and took a drink of water. “But she’s your sister… and Narcissa’s, and no matter what she did to me, to others… if they’re going to let her live after all this is over, I can’t imagine she’ll put up with stringent house arrest. Or Azkaban again. I just- I don’t know, I hadn’t really given much thought about what would happen after all... <em>this</em>.” She gestured then to the sleeve that covered up the cursed scar. “This is the first time I’ve had more of a clear head about this scar… and her. Not clouded by that bond’s influence, I mean.”</p><p>Andy leaned her head into the palm of one of her hands and took a drink from her cup of tea. “Many will call for her death, I’m certain of that,” she said, “and they’ve reason to after everything she did. It isn’t as if the Ministry hasn’t already executed other high profile Death Eaters right after the final battle. Almost a year will have passed since those executions, though, and I doubt Narcissa will have it... nor Azkaban for that matter, and if Bellatrix holds herself to removing that word on your arm…” Andy sighed heavily. “I... I simply do not know. I haven’t seen her since the early seventies, all I have are tales since then. Nothing can ever erase her past or fix what she did, even if that,” she gestured to Hermione’s left forearm, “can be physically erased. Not to mention what else happened to others because of her <em>Cruciatus</em>.”</p><p>Hermione glanced down at where the scar could be found and hummed in response, though her thoughts were streaking past her at a rapid speed; it helped to fall into strategising, trying to discern how they’d possibly handle Bellatrix after this instead of dwelling on the… the <em>torture</em>. Especially while in the very same manor it happened in. It gave her something to do, something else instead of only the memories of endless pain and the trauma Bellatrix had saddled her with.</p><p>She continued eating her meal, cycling through the options so far: Azkaban, strict house arrest, execution. But in a way, death was the<em> easy</em> way out for someone who had drug out the torture and eventual death of others. Eventually, further reparations of some sort came to her mind, something that would <em>seem </em>like torture to the witch, but she didn’t know what. In the end, it didn’t really matter beyond Bellatrix honestly paying in some way for what she did, and that she never was forced to spend time with her again like she had been during these past several months.</p><p>When they entered Narcissa’s room after their meal, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to find her properly sitting up in bed for the first time. Blue eyes caught her brown ones as she walked in behind Andromeda, who sat down on the bedside nearest her younger sister, casting several diagnostic spells before handing her a few more potions to take. Hermione stood next to the doorway, resisting an inane urge to play with her fingers, her hair, anything. Narcissa only looked away from her when Andy made eye contact, going through the same list of questions, to which- depending on Narcissa’s mood- she would either answer seriously or with a hint of barb to them.</p><p>“You’re lucky Andy has a sense of humour, you’re aware?” Hermione had settled on the edge of her transfigured bed after Andromeda left them for the evening, saying she needed to check in on her daughter at Hogwarts. She was flipping through parchment work from the BSRA, making additional comments in the margins, suggesting they make use of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission to aid in finding someone- Muggle-born or Muggle- who worked in genetics research who already knew about British Wizarding society. Easier start and no need to Obliviate their main source if they went about it that way.</p><p>Narcissa picked up a book from within one of the drawers of a bedside table, entitled <em>Finding the Magical Balance in Your New Household</em>, which honestly was the cutest thing. Already looking forward to moving out of the manor and into her own place- she wondered if Narcissa had ever lived on her own or if she’d married Lucius straight out of Hogwarts. She was broken out of the idle thought at the other witch’s hum and then, “I am fortunate, yes. Merlin spare us all if I were stuck with some stranger for a Healer who could not take even a hint of verbal sparring. I do thrive off it at times. It appears to act as a venue to distract from whatever ails me.”</p><p>“There are other methods to distract yourself from pain, ailments…” Hermione half-smiled, looking up again from the parchment she was reading, “that doesn't involve-” She paused, noticing that Narcissa was wearing <em>reading glasses</em>, and something in her chest tightened at the sight. Blinking, she tried to remember- she was going to say something about asking the Healer about themselves, if it was a stranger, as everyone enjoyed talking about themselves, and a patient could lose themselves in another’s story, but now-</p><p>“Other methods?” Narcissa asked, and lowered her glasses so she could look over the frames. And then the woman had the <em>nerve </em>to smirk so damned coyly at her! What was she <em>thinking </em>Hermione had been about to say? Hermione pressed her lips in a thin line, rolled her eyes, and said, “<em>Yes</em>, such as asking questions about the Healer, how they got into their line of work-”</p><p>“But wouldn’t that distract them from doing their job?” Narcissa countered.</p><p>Er. Now that she thought about it, Narcissa… had a point. But she wasn’t going to be deterred, so she quipped back, “For anything whereupon distraction could mean disastrous consequences, the patient should be unconscious, anyway. If they let themselves become distracted when casting diagnostics, doing <em>typical </em>work that practically a Healer’s <em>aide </em>could do… maybe they shouldn’t be a Healer, then.”</p><p>At that, Narcissa looked at her with something that almost appeared like pride. With a small smile, she softly laughed out, “Touché, my dear.”</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>She’d <em>thought </em>they were out of the danger zone. But no, neither Narcissa nor Andromeda thought to inform her of the vows’ last vengeance that came on Friday, something that was meant to <em>stick </em>with the witch for divorcing her pillock bastard of a husband who honest to Merlin utterly <em>deserved </em>to rot in Azkaban for not forcing his bloody father to alter the sodding, bloody fuck so-called <em>marriage vows</em>! Partway through doing her utmost best to aid Andy properly, Hermione viscerally realised how <em>terrible </em>she’d be at critical Healing or even being a Healer’s aide because she’d had to leave the bedroom to go and sick up in the toilet a couple of doors down a few times from the wretched appearance of the gash on Narcissa’s arm, something that would leave some scarring for the rest of her life. She'd been able to handle Ron's splinching in some part due to pure adrenaline, but <em>Merlin</em>, this was worse, and she didn't have the same rush flowing through her veins as she had back then.</p><p>And to accompany <em>that</em> particular scar came a few others, all magical scarring that would never heal, likely meant to deter future suitors from Narcissa. After spending the past couple of days mostly spent resting, Andromeda was doing everything she could to pour almost the entirety of her Healing magic capabilities into minimising the damage done to Narcissa, in body and mind and magic. All Hermione could think was that this sort of thing <em>had </em>to change, <em>had </em>to stop. She splashed freezing cold water onto her face and stared at her own bloodshot eyes, considered casting on herself to make it so that she looked herself again, but no, she wouldn’t. That was the easy way out, and she’d likely end up crying again at that and render the action useless.</p><p>She sat at Narcissa’s bedside for the next few hours as she recuperated, alternating between her lesson work, re-reading parchment work from the BSRA, sifting through shrunken Malfoy library books, and writing in the journal Professor Snyde had given her, courtesy of the peacefully resting woman she now finally wrote in front of. As the minutes ticked by, she lightly dragged her quill across the parchment in the notebook, writing about misjudging pure-bloods as people who had next to no real problems. She still believed they would always hold a leg-up over Muggle-borns, much the same as half-bloods because they grew up surrounded by magic, but it didn’t make their actual <em>lives</em> any easier. As she continued to write, she felt the magic within the binding seep into her, full of warmth and comfort and… and some strange emotion that felt akin to… hope? The journal didn’t write back to her, though, and for that she was thankful. She didn’t know what she’d do if it started doing that.</p><p>When she finally had nothing else to work on and nowhere else within or outside the manor she felt comfortable going to in order to stretch her legs, she succumbed to temptation in her frustration and dug around in her satchel until she found the photograph. It had the qualities of regular Wizarding photographs to it, but the more she’d looked at it, the more it seemed that it had also taken on some other traits she’d never seen before. She wondered if it’d been taken with some sort of experimental camera, because while <em>typically </em>it showed the same sequence of events, there were times where she’d pull the photograph out and find the presumed seventh-year Slytherin wizard sitting up on the chaise lounge, almost as if he was instructing the younger students on better methods when playing Wizard’s chess. But she was admittedly much more interested in the other two ways she’d seen the younger version of Narcissa Black conduct herself in the photograph.</p><p>It had to be that whatever happened in the Slytherin common room, <em>stayed </em>in the Slytherin common room. For however slimy the snakes could be, on the flip side she could tell from these photographs that they were about as equally loyal to each other. With caveats, she was certain of, but still. She watched as in another version of the photograph, Narcissa leaned forward against the back of the chaise lounge, observing who Hermione still assumed to be her cousin until another witch went behind her, clearly trailing her fingertips over the back of Narcissa’s robes as she passed. She wasn’t certain of who the witch was, but Narcissa always smirked towards the camera before turning and catching the other witch’s hand, pulling her flush against her body before laying a kiss to the underside of the witch’s jaw. Hermione truly wondered who’d taken this photograph and how it’d come into Regulus’s possession when it held such a scene. But what was even worse… or honestly better, in some ways, was the third version of the photograph, a version that didn’t transpire that often at all- perhaps only once every fifteen or twenty times Hermione looked at the picture, if that. A clear pattern hadn’t quite emerged.</p><p>Regulus and his friend left the frame for this one, and truly even who she believed to be Evan Rosier was absent for most of the scene. His image woke from a nap on the chaise lounge, looking around in a daze until he spotted Narcissa glancing over her textbook at him. They were the only two Slytherins in the photograph until the wizard left, and Narcissa then made her way to recline upon the lounge Rosier had vacated. After that… Merlin, Hermione could still imagine it clearly in her mind’s eye. Narcissa cast some sort of charm with her wand, presumably one that would alert her immediately if someone was coming within the vicinity of the common room and another to likely dampen any… noises.</p><p>Hermione tugged at the clasp on her robes and ran through the memory of that particular scene as the photograph currently wasn’t showing it to her. There was the way Narcissa seemed to say something in the general direction of the camera then began to undo her Slytherin robes. The shot drew in closer, and by the time Narcissa was massaging her breasts through the material of her sweater, she was looking <em>directly </em>into the camera, a confident smirk playing on her lips before suddenly, it was clear that the person behind the lens was pushed back onto the table in front of the lounge, and when the image stabilised again, Narcissa’s hands had bunched up her skirt, revealing her knickers. And then- and then, holy <em>shit</em>, she needed to go to the loo. And not for taking a wee this time.</p><p>The photograph still wasn’t showing her the scene she so wanted to see, but the memory of it was enough to go on. Hermione sat on the edge of the tub, the rim wide enough to decently support her after discarding her outer robes on the sink, not even bothering to cast a charm to fold them neatly. Her left hand slid under the waistband of her trousers- only pausing for a few moments to squeeze her eyes shut, remind herself that this was <em>her</em> hand, <em>her </em>choice, and that terrible memory from her birthday could shove right off- and her right held the photograph, observing the details of the younger Narcissa in the original photograph as she started replaying the memory. Gods, <em>fuck</em>, she ran her fingers over her cloth-covered folds, the fabric damp, then bit down on her lip as she worked her hand underneath the constraining cloth, responding to the touch of her fingers.</p><p>She checked that the door was truly locked before parting her legs, opening herself up further to her ministrations. Running a finger around her inner folds, Hermione collected her fluids, biting back a moan that would have surely woken Andromeda, perhaps Narcissa as well. She hadn’t the mind before to cast a silencing charm, and she wasn’t in the state of mind to accomplish such a thing now. She whimpered as images of the present-day Narcissa played out in her mind, images of <em>her</em> looking at the camera with half-lidded eyes, touching herself through her knickers, the camera shot going wonky as whoever was holding it seemed to go for their own sex as well. Didn’t matter, though- it was still clear enough to watch in her mind’s eye as Narcissa’s head rolled back, exposing her throat as she went underneath and clearly began to masturbate, much like Hermione was now.</p><p>She was easily pumping one finger in herself, softly whining from the pleasure that still wasn’t enough. Another finger coated itself with the evidence of her arousal, shortly joining the first once she felt she was ready. “<em>Fuck</em>,” she whispered, a low groan following. The shaky image in her memory progressed, Narcissa stopping herself as she watched the person shakily holding the camera. Hermione could almost imagine that it was Narcissa watching <em>her</em> instead of the nameless, faceless witch or wizard from over two decades prior. She moved her fingers faster, chasing an ever-building yet ever-elusive climax, and considered adding a third- after all, she knew she could take it, but… she didn’t want this to end just yet. It’d been almost a week since she’d last gotten herself off, and <em>shite </em>had she needed this after all of the stress and tension.</p><p>Glancing down at the photograph in her right hand as she deliberately slowed her fingers inside of herself, Hermione’s eyes widened as the image changed before her eyes, and oh Merlin, it- she dearly hoped- “Oh gods, <em>yes</em>,” she murmured. It was the scene she’d been in the thick of imagining, using to work herself up towards orgasm. It was so much <em>more </em>seeing it unfold in reality. After it properly started, she added a third finger, and Merlin were her thighs trembling. The cushioning charm helped her arse out, but she- she needed to <em>come</em>.</p><p>Panting softly, she could almost imagine Narcissa’s voice speaking to her through the photograph, remarking on the rather obscene sounds of her fingers fucking into herself. How absolutely soaked she had to be, how she was clearly in the right room to clean herself up afterwards, and- and- Hermione let her head fall back, much like Narcissa’s in the photograph, her lips parted as she groaned under her breath, pumping her fingers at a feverish pace while her thumb moved to her aching clit, teasing it until she simply <em>couldn’t</em> put herself through any more. With a soft cry, she pressed hard against it while curling her fingers inside of herself, grazing against that perfect bloody spot that always-</p><p>“Oh my fuck<em>ing</em>-” she clenched her jaw as she came, shuddering, nearly losing what grip she had on the floor as her toes curled while her climax coursed through her. Sodding <em>hell</em>, she’d needed that like nothing else. Her breath came in heaving pants that slowed to a manageable pace, a normal rate, after several moments. The orgasm now washed over her, it left her feeling rather boneless. And knackered, if she had to be honest. She pulled her fingers out, considered tasting herself, but this time… no, she simply wiped the fluids onto her trousers. Narcissa was asleep, and-</p><p>A knock at the door. Hermione blanched, quickly trying to right her outfit, throwing on outer robes without even checking herself in the mirror, not yet trusting her voice to even say <em>be a minute</em>. Merlin, her mind was still frazzled from the activity, still catching up to her as she unlocked the door and opened it.</p><p>“Ah,” <em>that </em>voice came, blue eyes looking her up and down. That voice. That woman. Narcissa bloody… Black? Yes. Out of bed on her own for the first time since Hermione had arrived. The witch she’d just bloody well rubbed one out to. Narcissa met her eyes and blinked curiously. “Andromeda cleared me for a short walk, and I found myself in need of, well- have you finished? I thought I heard some shuffling about...”</p><p>Hermione blinked and cast a short look back into the loo before turning back and nodding. “Yes, I- y’know, simply answering the call of the potion, right?” She flashed a grin, hoping it seemed like the truth, but she felt some awkwardness leak into it. Bugger. Narcissa, though, merely grasped her shoulder and squeezed it before brushing past her. Hermione stared blankly ahead, not moving until she heard a throat clear from behind her.</p><p>“Hermione, darling, are you all right?” She turned, making eye contact with the older witch as she… oh, right, she needed to. The toilet. Needed to give the other witch some privacy to relieve herself. Dumbly, Hermione nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind her. She sagged against it immediately afterwards, only gathering her wits again as she heard the toilet lid raise from the room behind her. With a furious blush at what she’d just done in the room, a facility that she had to share with not only Andromeda but Narcissa as well… oh, Merlin, she should have kept herself from the temptation. Should have at <em>least </em>gone to a bathroom further away. That’s what she’d told herself she’d do, but she- she hadn’t been in any state of mind to properly think things through in the heat of the moment.</p><p>As she walked back to the bedroom she was still sharing with Narcissa, all she could do was silently lecture herself about bloody <em>self-control</em>. Yes, she was a woman like any other with certain <em>needs</em>, but again, she could have waited or- as thought before- gone to some other wing of the manor, even if leaving this wing by herself caused her anxiety to spike, or- or she should have just… just simply <em>controlled </em>herself! Once she reached the bedroom, she flung herself onto the transfigured bed, hoping beyond hope that she’d be asleep by the time Narcissa returned. Though she doubted the woman would simply let it go, considering how oddly she’d behaved herself.</p><p>Normally she adored, even <em>loved </em>Narcissa’s careful attention to her, but now? Now she wanted the opposite. She only prayed to any gods out there for such a wish to be fulfilled as she lingered just on the cusp of sleep, the energy expended during her time pleasuring herself catching up to her again.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>She shouldn’t presume. She should not. Even if everything her senses took in and considered could only point to one logical conclusion. Sometimes she truly abhorred her talent for perception, and even more so her natural ability for Legilimency. Narcissa stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, running fingers down the sides of her nose, breathing in softly. The flushed face, the somewhat wrinkled clothing, the rather <em>off </em>reaction to meeting at the door, the discordant thoughts, and… the smell. That absolutely damning smell. She remembered similar ones from her dormitory at Hogwarts before they’d found a spell to mask it, not wanting to outright announce what they were doing.</p><p>Had she truly intruded upon Hermione taking time to <em>pleasure </em>herself? It was a natural act, but Narcissa’s pale cheeks burned with a light shade of pink that grew slightly darker as her mind wandered further into the idea of the younger woman engaging in such carnal pleasures in this very same room she now stood in. An ache she hadn’t succumbed to sating in over a week or more bloomed deep inside of her and she held her head in her hands for a few moments, almost asking the lingering scent of sex to go ahead and bloody well <em>dissipate</em>. For fucking Salazar’s sake, it wasn’t as if she could <em>do </em>anything about it right now- Andromeda had piled on the embarrassment when she’d told her she couldn’t “engage in <em>any </em>sexual activities” until Sunday.</p><p>After allowing herself a few moments more to compose her thoughts, discard any and all related to what now had so clearly transpired in this loo, she straightened her robes and upon entering the bedroom Hermione had taken to sharing with her, she noted the witch’s state of apparent sleep. “Apparent” being the keyword, as when she stepped closer, an instinct she had developed over decades informed her that Hermione wasn’t fully asleep yet, but… Narcissa would indulge them both and act as if she was unaware of this. She settled down on a spot of the bed beside Hermione that wasn’t occupied by the witch’s body and reached out, softly stroking the younger woman’s hair. She was beautiful.</p><p>“Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispered, moving her hand through to the ends of Hermione’s hair, then trailing down to rub her back. Only when she noted that Hermione had truly fallen asleep did she lean over and kiss the witch’s temple, letting her lips selfishly linger on the warm skin beneath her. Softly breathing out as she withdrew her lips, Narcissa stood, using her hands instead of her wand to pull covers over Hermione. If anyone asked, she would say that she did it sheerly as to not overexert her magic so soon, but she knew better. She knew better as she laid down, covered herself with her bedsheets, and watched Hermione laying several steps away until her eyes finally shut of their own accord.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>narcissa, hermione, and andromeda spend one last day in malfoy manor.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and to round out femslash february...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Smelled like sex in the loo last night,” Andromeda idly commented as the three witches ate at the kitchen table on Saturday morning. Hermione spluttered, nearly spitting out a half-chewed bite of her toast before she shifted her eyes between Andy and Narcissa, the latter of whom had a napkin covering her mouth, a bit of liquid seeping through as she glared daggers at her older sister, an almost uncharacteristic deep flush appearing on her face. They’d gotten through almost the <em>entirety </em>of this meal, the first that Narcissa had taken with the two of them, without a hitch. Until now.</p>
<p>As Hermione wiped a few stray crumbs off her face with her napkin, Narcissa started to chew Andy out, a harsh glint to her eyes that Hermione never wanted to see herself on the receiving end of. “And how, pray tell, are we supposed to take this crass comment, Andromeda? I have no interest in your carnal activities, nor do I presume Hermione to either.”</p>
<p>Andromeda grinned wickedly, seemingly unaffected by Narcissa's hard look, and drummed the fingers of her free hand slowly against the table while she held the handle of her tea mug with the other. “Oh, I’m not speaking of <em>myself</em>, Cissa. After all, I have my own private room, so <em>I </em>have no need to resort to using the loo to satisfy myself. Now, you two, on the other hand...” Her grin slowly grew wider, and Hermione was yet again thankful that she had no siblings. She still got quite a bit from other people’s siblings, first the Weasleys and now apparently <em>Andromeda bloody Tonks</em>, but the point still stood.</p>
<p>She flicked her gaze toward Narcissa, watching as she splayed her fingers across the napkin she’d used and set back down on the table. Watched as she clenched her jaw, pressed her eyes shut for a moment. Then, blue eyes opened slightly, though they were still narrowed at her older sister as she said in a dangerously clipped tone, “Fine. As you can see, though, I am still alive after the fact. I would say that it is, in all honesty, an excellent benchmark to confirm that I am well enough to relieve you of your services.”</p>
<p>Hermione blinked several times- it couldn’t be, could it? Either Narcissa was <em>covering </em>for her, which she had absolutely no reason to, or she actually <em>had </em>done the same thing in the loo after Hermione had returned to the bedroom they were sharing. Or, and she didn’t allow herself to think on it for more than an instant, Narcissa was both covering for her <em>and</em> admitting to pleasuring herself. She was broken out of her rather distracting thought process by Andromeda’s brilliant shock of laughter, hardly dimmed by the clap of her hands over her mouth. Her warm brown eyes danced with absolute mirth and she wheezed out, “Oh Merlin’s saggy <em>bollocks</em>, Cissa! Still such a bloody Slytherin! Using that to- to try and get me out of your hair, oh sodding hell.”</p>
<p>“It takes one to know one, Andromeda,” Narcissa drawled out, a light tinge of pink still colouring her face, and Hermione exhaled softly knowing full well that she was out of her league when it came to these two sisters going at each other in this specific manner. She rested her head in her hands, shaking it for a few moments, then raised it only to glance between the two of them.</p>
<p>“You two are bloody <em>impossible</em>, you know that? Good Godric, are all sisters like this?” She paused, trying to remember her encounters with the Patil twins, but they’d been in different Houses, and Ginny was the only daughter in the Weasley family. Brothers… she knew brothers and their dynamics well from the Weasleys. Sisters, now… that was a different story.</p>
<p>Narcissa rested her chin in one of her hands and almost simpered at her, but Hermione noticed a slight pained twitch to her expression- she <em>was </em>still recovering, even if she was past the worst of it. She was, after all, still on a strict potions regimen, though down to only three a day for the next seventy-two hours. The witch didn’t lose the playful gleam to her eyes, though, as she quipped, “No, darling, we happen to be Blacks <em>and </em>Slytherins.”</p>
<p>“There’s not a more deadly combination in sisters, is there?” Andromeda added. Oh, but there was something missing. The two hid it well, but Hermione felt it as if it was burning, acrid ash between the younger siblings. For a moment, she entertained imagining another world, a better world, where she would have met the eldest on better terms. A Wizarding society without silly blood prejudices, perhaps even one in which magical children born to Muggles was seen as a boon and blessing. Gods, the idea of it almost made her snort. But she looked on as the sisters skirted past their missing third, and things settled into something akin to a regular conversation during the following minutes until Andromeda got to her feet, asking Narcissa to come to the back gardens in a quarter of an hour. Something about a series of tests to officially clear her for release.</p>
<p>“I’m a board-certified, mastery-level Healer, Narcissa. You <em>will </em>meet me out there, or Morgana help me, I will resort to making Hermione over here <em>drag</em> you out if I must. Though,” Andromeda paused, cocking her head while glancing over at Hermione, “I doubt our Gryffindor would need much persuasion there.” And with a hint of a teasing smile, Andy turned on her heel and left the room. Left her here, alone with Narcissa. After everything that had just occurred. Bollocks.</p>
<p>“I-” Hermione started, but was swiftly silenced by a terribly unusual display of Narcissa raising her hands in the air somewhat, then smacking them onto the table.</p>
<p>“That bloody, sodding, <em>ridiculous </em>witch!” Narcissa exclaimed, curling her fingers to her palms. Hermione watched, jaw slack, as the woman’s nostrils flared. She took one hand and laid it against her face, and Hermione almost thought Narcissa had forgotten she was there with her until, slowly, she tilted her head up and looked at her through the spaces between spreading fingers. “You will refrain from telling her of this outburst, won’t you?”</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, and at the slow tug of Narcissa’s lips, revealing an open smile, she hurriedly picked up her mug of tea and tried to hide her own grin. But Narcissa’s hand leaving her face to wrap around the wrist of Hermione’s hand holding onto the mug’s handle rendered the effort futile. She glanced down at Narcissa’s hand there- the warm, slender fingers around her, causing her skin to tingle pleasantly, and she put the mug back down.</p>
<p>“I definitely won’t tell anyone,” Hermione verbally confirmed after clearing her throat. “After all, you said you have a reputation to uphold, yes?” She couldn’t help but smirk at the delighted shimmer that passed over Narcissa’s eyes.</p>
<p>“Ah, you remembered…” Narcissa released her light grip and patted Hermione’s hand, the touch lingering for what felt almost like a moment too long before she uttered, “Good girl.”</p>
<p>Okay- that was- she groaned internally, wanting so desperately to hide her face in her hands at the reaction Narcissa pulled from her with only two simple words. But she couldn’t, she could only hope her thoughts weren’t being too loud- Narcissa hadn’t mentioned it in quite some time, but. She worried at her lip and went back to draining the rest of her tea, taking the time to collect her wits about her again. Her Gryffindor wits, of course, for after setting the empty mug back down, she addressed the elephant still meandering about the room.</p>
<p>Her voice was soft as she looked at Narcissa with a slightly ducked head. “You didn’t have to cover for me, you know.”</p>
<p>Narcissa hummed thoughtfully. “Of course I know, but she is <em>my</em> sister, not yours. She has no right to cause you any discomfort. And you cannot even imagine the times the three of us walked in on each other as teenagers, because who remembers to lock a door when pleasuring oneself?” She paused for a moment, tapping a finger to her lips before continuing, “Except for you, of course. You also had the mind to-”</p>
<p>“Oh gods, can you please stop, Narcissa!” Hermione nearly wailed, dropping her forehead to the empty place in front of her, as a house-elf had already come by and cleared the table. “Why did I even bring this back up…” As she drew out the last word into an almost pained whine, Narcissa’s hand settled on the back of her head, gingerly stroking through her curls.</p>
<p>“Darling… there is nothing to be embarrassed about. It is a natural act to satisfy a natural need for most people.” Hermione lifted her head a bit, resting her chin on her forearm, scrunching up her eyebrows.</p>
<p>“Is <em>everything </em>regarding romance and, er, sex so much more open-minded in Wizarding society?” she asked, and Narcissa waved a hand almost dismissively. Before the other woman could answer, though, Hermione blurted out, “Because Luna Lovegood was in the Restricted Section last week, and I- I was going to help her, almost as a gesture of… thanks? For being there at the Griffin’s Nest? But I didn’t know <em>what </em>she was looking for,” she softly exhaled, “and I wasn’t expecting it to be, er, what it was.”</p>
<p>“Which was?” Narcissa inquired. She leaned forward some, dangerously close to invading whatever little bit was left of Hermione’s personal space. She swallowed and felt brilliant heat rush up to her face.</p>
<p>“Uhm… sex magic. She’s… maybe it’s official by now? But, she’s in a triad with Neville and Hannah… Hannah Abbott, that is. Believe Muggles typically call them polyamorous relationships. But, er, she was looking for information regarding them and handed me this book called... <em>Unlocking the Potential of Sexual Magicks</em>?” she took a breath before she thought she might pass right out and continued, “Right, and had me look through it for anything helpful on triads. While she- she looked through <em>Wizarding Triads in Practice</em>. I just- the Muggle world is nowhere <em>near </em>as nonchalant about this… or at least, as a whole, still. There’s pockets that <em>are</em>, but…”</p>
<p>A hand came up to rub one of her arms soothingly. “As a whole, we <em>are</em> more open to such topics, and perhaps if your previous school years were not saddled with fighting a brewing war, then spending that time searching for… for those despicable <em>Horcruxes</em>,” she spat the word out like poison, “then you may have had a different experience, more time to acclimate and learn over years instead of months. We do not have to speak any more on this right now- I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, Hermione.”</p>
<p>The younger witch sighed as the motions from Narcissa’s hand brought her a sense of steadiness, of surety again. “It’s… it’s all right.” She blew out a breath and then gave Narcissa a small smile. “Though I still feel that Luna is… even more open than most witches. She, well, after helping her... she kissed me on the lips?” Hermione blinked and touched a finger to them, running her forefinger along the bottom lip. “That’s not typical, is it?” Oh and was it something, seeing Narcissa shift her gaze toward her lips; there was almost no doubt to it in her mind as blue eyes didn’t follow her finger as it left her lips, but appeared to watch as Hermione licked them before blinking a few times and meeting her gaze again.</p>
<p>A bit breathlessly Narcissa remarked, “No, that is… unusual. She was not looking for a fourth, was she?” And Narcissa’s gaze was suddenly more open, almost vulnerable if she dared to think it. Hermione hadn’t quite seen the expression on her features before. She raised her hands in an almost placating manner and assured, “No, not at all! I- she somehow knew I’d wanted… to try with another woman, or her, or something like that. It was quite chaste, nothing more, like a thank you kiss on the lips if those even exist. I’m rather exclusively a monogamous witch at that. I don’t want anything more than a relationship with one partner, personally.”</p>
<p>Narcissa’s face had clouded over as she spoke of trying with another woman but returned to a pleasant countenance at the mention of monogamy. Her lips quirked into a small smile. “I, too, am not one to enjoy <em>sharing</em>,” and it all happened too quickly to tell if Narcissa had <em>winked</em>, or if it was a trick of the light or simply Hermione’s imagination, but it caused her heart to lurch in her chest regardless. There was something distinctly flirtatious to Narcissa’s tone, and no matter how Hermione tried to write it off, she simply wasn’t able to. It seemed so clear, and it...</p>
<p>“Narcissa Cassiopeia Black! Get your bloody arse out here!” came Andromeda’s<em> sonorus</em>-amplified voice from the rear gardens of the manor. “We only have until tomorrow mid-morning before this bloody place boots all of us out by force!”</p>
<p>“Shall you <em>drag</em> me out there, then, Miss Granger?” Narcissa had leaned over, so, <em>so</em> close to her, and the whisper sent a pleasurable shiver down her spine. All right. If she was going to be like this, then it was only for the best that she played along, right? She couldn’t stand for someone teasing her so without doing her utmost to give it right back. And she wasn’t a Gryffindor for nothing. She had to <em>prove</em> that she could give as good as she got.</p>
<p>With a lilting and disarming smile, and despite her traitorously pounding heart, Hermione reached out for the high collar of Narcissa’s robes, and as the blonde witch’s mouth fell open in a small <em>oh</em>, Hermione tugged her out of her seat as she stood up. She knew by the look on Narcissa’s face that this wasn’t something she was used to, or at least it wasn’t something that she’d allowed to happen to her in quite some time. It was made all the more clear by the visible gulp and seemingly darkening eyes. Hermione exhaled sharply, then her smile morphed into something coyer.</p>
<p>“Like this?” she asked, putting on an air of ‘innocent questioning student’ while sliding around Narcissa to grasp onto the backside of the collar before pulling on it hard, and for a moment she almost broke the impromptu role as Narcissa’s short heels clacked about discordantly on the floor before stabilising. But turning around for a quick check, she saw nothing but a rather willing witch, though she put on an act of grumbling under her breath until Hermione switched to pulling her along by a hand wrapped around her arm instead. She didn’t need to give Andromeda <em>too much </em>to add to her arsenal, after all.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-----</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bloody fucking <em>hell</em>. How one day could be charged with such borderline yet still somehow underscored <em>sexual </em>energy Hermione had no idea, but by the time she’d finished supper alongside an increasingly more flirtatious Narcissa Black, she excused herself to the loo where she’d gotten off the previous night. Narcissa had allowed her to do so much more than she ever had previously. More almost intimate touches, increasing amounts of banter that were more flirtatious than mere teasing, more of… <em>everything</em>, even from Narcissa’s side toward her. Hermione wondered if it was because the last tendrils of her blood marriage vows with Lucius were slipping away. Had part of Narcissa been held back by them? And was- oh, a terrible thought went through her mind then. Was she simply utilising Hermione as an outlet, because she was the only other person around who <em>wasn’t </em>related to her?</p>
<p>Oh, that put a damper on her steadily building arousal like nothing else. She wondered if Andromeda knew about this effect, <em>whatever </em>the hell was going on with Narcissa today, but she- even though she <em>knew </em>now that discussion of such things wasn’t borderline taboo as in parts of the Muggle world she’d grown up around, she still couldn’t ask the woman’s <em>sister</em>. Even if it had been said sister to bring up masturbation at the bleeding breakfast table in the first place- at least now she knew that Tonks’ personality wasn’t <em>all</em> from her father. Grunting in frustration, she stripped the rest of the way off and climbed into the shower, blasting cold water onto her body. Anything to try and douse the remnants of her desire. She needed to be objective, needed to understand all that she <em>didn’t </em>understand, instead of losing herself to her own desires.</p>
<p>Also, what was she even thinking such things for in sodding Malfoy Manor, the place she’d gotten <em>tortured </em>in by the woman… the woman she no longer felt at all in her mind from that newly quietened bond. Oh. She’d never… gotten around to properly thanking Narcissa for the suppressant. Suddenly she felt a renewed sense of vigour and scrubbed all of the dirt and grime off from helping Andromeda test Narcissa’s strength and magical capabilities a bit earlier on in the day.</p>
<p><em>“No using </em>scourgify<em>- it’s nowhere near as efficient as bathing, darling. And much less… abrasive on the skin.” She said it like a simple fact, as if she were only caring about the harsh effects of using that spell on one’s body, but the witch’s eyes roaming over her dirtied form had indicated otherwise.</em></p>
<p><em>Andy didn’t sing-song her words like Bellatrix- it wasn’t crazed or demented, but she did lightly sing out, “Admit it, </em>Cissa<em>! You </em>like<em> seeing her all disheve-!”</em></p>
<p>Ah. She hadn’t been able to finish, Hermione remembered while she let the water rinse her body after thoroughly soaping up and shampooing her hair. Narcissa had cast <em>levicorpus </em>on Andromeda, lightly swinging her about as if she were a rag doll for nearly a full minute until Hermione could stop laughing and cast the counter to it, adding a cushioning spell to the ground so that when Andy flipped back around she wouldn’t fall onto hard cobblestone and hurt herself.</p>
<p>As she dried off, she thought she heard a clattering somewhere else in the manor but disregarded it. This was the last evening, the last <em>night</em> in this manor. After tonight… she had no need to ever return to it. Unless for some ungodly reason Draco did move back into the house later on and she was invited to some event. But she knew he had terrible memories here and no matter what, simple remodelling didn’t completely rid a home of everything that had transpired within it. A surge of concern for Narcissa coursed through her, wondering how in the world she’d lived here by herself since the end of the war. It had only been a few months, but still. Perhaps what remodelling <em>had </em>happened had taken up most of her attention, instead of the memories...</p>
<p>But she needn’t think about that now. Narcissa’s time living in this place was ending after tonight. She pulled on her pyjamas and cast a small drying charm on her hair that left it with only a hint of dampness to dry naturally before she moved towards the toilet, having put off answering the potion’s signals in the shower. It was as she lifted the lid that a scream ripped through the manor, sending Hermione hurtling out of the loo and towards the source. <em>That’s Narcissa’s voice</em>, she thought as she ran down the main corridor of the second floor, down the main stairwell-</p>
<p>“Why the <em>fuck </em>is it here again, Andy?! What- what’s <em>happening?!</em>” and then all she heard was a broken voice casting invisibility charm after invisibility charm on… ah. The... the parlour doorway. She remembered, her feet taking her closer, even though she didn’t want to... but she needed to get to Narcissa. She froze in place close by, though, staring as Andromeda held Narcissa’s back to her front, attempting to simply tug her sister’s wand out of her hand without magic. Just sheer force, and it wasn’t working.</p>
<p>On autopilot, Hermione remembered Harry’s go-to spell.</p>
<p>“<em>Expelliarmus!</em>” she cast and watched as Narcissa’s wand flew out of her hand to land in Hermione’s right. She wrapped her fingers around it, the thrum of its magic still aching, crying out like its owner. She tightened her grip on it, staring blankly as the tip of it pointed towards the ground. In another moment, though, a body almost crashed into her, and the breath in her lungs was forcefully exhaled. She smelled lavender, and she- it wasn’t enough. Images of that afternoon in March flashed through her mind’s eye, feelings and vivid memories she’d shoved so far back into her mind came rushing forth again, and her arms hung limply at her sides, Narcissa’s wand clattering to the floor as the woman herself held her so close, but it still- it wasn’t enough to keep the sob from wrenching itself from within her lungs, and-</p>
<p>“Oh god, oh- oh god,” she shallowly breathed out, drawing in more air than she was exhaling, and it was- it was as if she was splitting apart from the inside out. “I thought- I, why is- I’m not even <em>in ther</em>-'' Narcissa, if it was even <em>possible</em>, drew her closer, closer, closer, one hand clutching her back while the other stroked it. Magic, not her own, almost seemed to enter her fracturing mind, and it was warm, it was-</p>
<p>“Shhh, darling,” that beautiful witch’s voice came, that- that woman who, if things could be changed, she knew. She <em>knew</em> that Narcissa would have stopped it if she’d been able, if she- everything hurt, everything was so. So complicated. Disjointed. “You’re safe now,” Narcissa’s voice whispered directly into her ear, “I’m here, and I will never stand by and allow her to hurt you ever again. You are <em>safe</em>. Shhhh, it’s over, focus on my touch. Breathe with me, sweetheart.” Arms squeezed her gently and she exhaled slowly.</p>
<p>She breathed in alongside Narcissa, focusing on the sensation of the woman’s chest rising and falling. Then she let out a heavy exhale and tucked her head into the crook of Narcissa’s neck. She was okay. Bellatrix wasn’t here. Narcissa had her now, and Andromeda… she hadn’t been here when it had happened. Narcissa hadn’t held her like this back then. But- something familiar to that day… “Shit,” she whispered as the potion sent another, stronger signal to her brain, tugging on her magic. Merlin, this was- she couldn’t help but chuckle a little, which sent Narcissa to grab her shoulders and put a bit of distance between them.</p>
<p>Blue eyes questioned with a simple look before any words spilt out of Narcissa’s mouth, and Hermione murmured so softly as to keep it from Andromeda’s ears, “I’m afraid I rushed down here before I could use the loo. Where- where is the closest one?” Narcissa’s eyes almost imperceptibly widened and with a whispered, “Do you trust me?” into her ear, followed by a nod and hands gripping onto both of her arms, that familiar tug of apparition whisked them both away.</p>
<p>And in the next moment, she was standing in an unfamiliar half-bath. It was still rather grand for a room that only housed a sink, toilet, and bidet, but-</p>
<p>“We’re still in the manor, Hermione,” Narcissa threaded her fingers through Hermione’s hair, and it was only now that she noticed that at some point Narcissa had summoned her wand to complete the apparition. “This is off the parlour… I,” she cleared her throat uncomfortably, “I did not think you would wish to travel through there. But it is the closest one regardless. Now, I will wait outside,” she paused for a moment, bringing her thumbs up to wipe at where tears had fallen from Hermione’s eyes, “and on your knock, I will come back in and return us to the foyer, all right?” Hermione nodded, waiting for Narcissa to leave. At least this time… Merlin, she could only imagine Bellatrix’s taunts if she’d lost control and actually wet herself during the torture, considering how close a loo had truly been.</p>
<p>The sharp tugging in her bladder gradually dulled, then finally completely left her as she presumed to finish- something rather new to the potion, almost akin to how relief had used to naturally feel. Not exactly, but closer than before when the tugging sensation had left immediately upon the <em>start </em>of going about relieving herself, which had left her wondering if she’d even properly finished despite typically being unable to <em>stop</em> once started. Or at least it felt that way. This, though, this was much better, left her feeling more in control, more… as she’d been before. She needed to properly thank Andy for it, she realised as she knocked on the door after washing her hands.</p>
<p>“Ready?” Narcissa asked after opening it, one of her hands held out towards her. Hermione took it and gently squeezed with a nod. She still didn’t trust herself to say much, still felt… out of sorts. But Narcissa drew her close and apparated them back to the foyer where Andromeda was nowhere to be found. “She went to pack her things,” Narcissa explained.</p>
<p>“Do you know why, er, your magic didn’t keep its hold on the parlour?” Hermione looked back at the closed door that led into the room.</p>
<p>Narcissa sighed and sent her wand to its holster, beckoning for Hermione to follow her back upstairs. “It appears that the magic I cast upon the manor is fading, beginning with those that took the most out of me.” She wandlessly attempted a bit of magic on the wall of a corridor as an example. The spell was meant to change the colour, but instead, nothing happened. “To clarify, my magic itself is fine,” -she cast upon her robes, changing the colour for a moment before reverting it- “but this house will not heed it.”</p>
<p>“You didn’t have to make the room invisible,” Hermione started to say, hands tucked into her pockets. “It’s not as if I ever planned on visiting here much-”</p>
<p>“And what makes you believe that I cast that spell for your benefit?” The unexpectedly harsh tone to Narcissa’s voice had Hermione halt in her tracks, shoulders slumping as she realised her mistake. Some sort of soft strangled sound left her throat as her mouth struggled to catch up to where her brain was at.</p>
<p>She furrowed her brow and licked her lips uncomfortably. “I apologise, I didn’t think about- I’m sorry.” Narcissa finally stopped walking and turned around, apparently noticing that she’d walked more than several steps ahead of Hermione. At the sound of Narcissa telling her to “come here,” she stopped only as she stood an arm’s length away from her. Narcissa took it upon herself to step a bit closer until she could easily reach around and run her fingers through the back of Hermione’s hair, taking time to also lightly scratch at her scalp.</p>
<p>“Disregarding to a degree what occurred in the foyer, please understand that today truly has been one of the best days I have ever had in this manor,” Narcissa admitted lowly as if sharing a secret. “And do believe that I understand the weight of that statement, considering that I have lived here for over twenty years, almost the entirety of my adult life thus far.” Her eyes held a sheen to them as she spoke, but before Hermione knew it it was gone and so was Narcissa’s hand in her hair. They continued walking back to the bedroom- <em>their </em>room that they had shared for the past few days. Narcissa made no indication that she was going to continue the conversation until they were both inside and the door was shut behind them.</p>
<p>“Come sit down with me,” Narcissa said, resting a hand on Hermione’s lower back as she gently guided them towards the king-sized bed that hadn’t been transfigured. She settled next to her, not even bothering to put polite space between them as they sat on the edge of the mattress. One of Narcissa’s hands tentatively rested on Hermione’s thigh, not as full of flirtatious assurance as earlier in the day. Hermione looked over to meet pale blue eyes and found a tremulous quality to not only them but to Narcissa’s entire countenance.</p>
<p>Hermione felt a rush of concern come over her. “Are you- are you all right, Narcissa? Do you need-” The hand on her thigh subtly tightened, and she moved hers to sit atop the paler one. She stroked the skin with her thumb methodically. “Hey, c’mon. Talk to me, please.”</p>
<p>“You should not…” Narcissa hesitated, cleared her throat, but her voice didn’t lose the roughness to its edges as she continued, changing course slightly. “You came here despite your... history with this manor. I never thought to ask you about my suppressant- that is- no, I did, but- Merlin, I’m being utterly ridiculous.” Hermione elected to ignore the last sentence there, figuring it was only a throwaway thought. “How, may I ask, is it working out so far, Hermione?”</p>
<p>“Oh, I meant to thank you for it earlier! It’s…” she considered her words, “it’s been bloody wonderful, at least once it got into my system. It tasted like utter rot, which I suppose you already knew from the ingredients you put in it. But I got it down, of course- what’s stomaching a bad taste to putting a plug on that bond? Felt like my brain was assaulted with static from not only one telly, multiple ones more like-”</p>
<p>“What is ‘static’ from the telly?” Narcissa was lightly fiddling with her fingers as she inquired. “I know what a telly is as you’ve told me, but…”</p>
<p>Hermione laughed a little. “Had to explain the same thing to Professor Snyde earlier, though about something else. Maybe I can show you sometime? It’s nothing terrible when it’s just from one telly, only annoying until it’s fixed. But after... or during, perhaps? I, well, I passed out for several hours, woke up as if I’d been on some sort of bender, had to wipe drool from my mouth. But it worked, it did! Still is, from what I can tell. Only have me in my head, nothing more, nothing less. I’ve hardly even spared much of a thought for your sister, at least when compared to before taking the suppressant.”</p>
<p>Narcissa breathed out a shuddering sigh, and Hermione watched as the witch beside her unceremoniously collapsed back onto the mattress, covering her eyes with one of her forearms as she exhaled again, but in clear relief this time as a smile formed on her face. “Good, good… I’m so happy that it’s working.” Hermione took her chance to lay back next to Narcissa, poking a finger at the arm that was still covering her eyes. Narcissa moved it away and turned her head a little, still smiling.</p>
<p>“I hated that I had to send it to you without being there myself,” Narcissa admitted with a slight frown, “but the Ministry makes no exceptions for scheduled divorce proceedings, and I…” her voice slightly cracked, “I couldn’t let you go through what happened on your birthday again. I’m <em>glad </em>that Miss Lovegood was there for you, but darling, your birthday should have only been a <em>happy</em> event-”</p>
<p>“It was! Well, up until then- Ginny and Luna took me to the library at Carnmin, don’t believe I told you about that? I actually found some old grimoires from the House of Black while there, as I wanted to see if I could find anything to help you with making the suppressant, but it turns out that you got that sorted before I-” She stopped as the breath was suddenly taken out of her by the sheer warmth and tenderness painted all over Narcissa’s face as she turned to look at her again. And not that she hadn’t come to the same conclusion before, but Merlin, Narcissa… was gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. <em>Literally</em> breathtaking, come to think of it in such a cheesy way. Even though she was still getting back all of her colour from the ordeal of going through with the divorce, she was a far cry better from the state she’d been in the past few days.</p>
<p>Her mouth gone dry, Hermione searched Narcissa’s face, waiting for the other witch to say something, <em>anything</em>. The light flush to her cheeks was distracting beyond reason, and something needed to happen. Something-</p>
<p>Narcissa’s eyes gently shut before her and the woman’s breath eased onto her face. She turned on her side and just did restrain herself from wrapping an arm around Narcissa’s waist, but there was no need. Narcissa, her eyes still closed, turned on her side as well, still facing Hermione, and then finally opened her eyes again. This was- this was so intimate, somehow more so than anything else they’d done in the past, and Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest. She licked her lips just to have <em>something </em>to do with herself.</p>
<p>“You are so beautiful in every way, Hermione,” Narcissa murmured almost reverently, at last breaking the silence. “I’m not entirely sure how this happened, but… I will truly miss seeing you every Thursday.” The smile she gave was so tender but filled with some semblance of sorrow. “I wish all of this had happened under better circumstances, but… may I?” she gestured to Hermione’s left forearm. Hermione nodded without thinking, still wondering what to say, if there was anything <em>to</em> say. For a woman like Narcissa to call her beautiful? Even with all of the flirting, it was… still somewhat hard to believe. She could only stare as Narcissa gently pulled the sleeve of her robe up, revealing the <em>mudblood </em>scar. It was less angry in appearance, but the word was still clearly visible.</p>
<p>Narcissa slightly resituated herself and raised Hermione’s forearm towards her face. When she was mere centimetres from it, her eyes flicked up to meet Hermione’s. Hot breath skirted over the slur, then warm lips made contact with the marred patch of skin. Hermione’s breath caught in her throat at the touch, the <em>lingering </em>touch as Narcissa shut her eyes and didn’t remove her lips for a few seconds. When she did finally withdraw, she met Hermione’s eyes once more before looking back down, kissing each and every letter. Nine kisses total, including the initial one. She shuddered, the fingers of her right hand curling to dig into her palm, reminding herself with the slight self-inflicted pain that this was really happening. She wasn’t dreaming.</p>
<p>“I do so wish I could rid you of this mark myself,” Narcissa whispered, trailing the light touch of her thumb over the scar. There was a slight tingling sensation as Narcissa touched her there, but nothing that hurt. She guessed that the suppressant had something to do with that, too. “But until March nears its end and my other sister removes it, I want you to know that… this word?”</p>
<p>“Narcissa… before you…” Hermione found her voice again, however gravelly it was. “Muggle-born, mudblood… what-have-you, I’ll have you know, I’m proud of it. Said as much to Griphook after… after I recovered as much as I could at Shell Cottage, after the manor. Besides this mark, the word itself holds nothing over me now.” She smiled openly at Narcissa and the older witch blinked at her in awe, then looked back down to the word.</p>
<p>Kissing it once more, she glanced at Hermione before fully laying back down beside her. “I would never doubt that, darling. This word, though… it was thrown around so casually in the pure-blood circles I was in, starting in childhood. I hear it still in my earliest memories. There was a time that I did say it and I… I <em>meant</em> it. Without realising… without <em>knowing</em> any Muggle-borns. I am truly sorry that I ever entertained, let alone participated in such ignorance, Hermione, and allowed my own son to use such a slur.”</p>
<p>“You…” Hermione started haltingly, “you more than have already<em> earned</em> my forgiveness through your actions and words these past months, Narcissa Black.” Voice thick with emotion, she continued, “You took in new information, considered and learned from it. In secret for the longest time, too. While I’m not a Slytherin and would not have considered saving my own skin or been inclined towards self-preservation, as you were… I can understand where you came from. After what happened with Andromeda for loving a Muggle-born wizard… you were frightened, weren’t you? I know I would-”</p>
<p>Narcissa wrapped her arms around her and pulled her close, sniffling. “What have I ever done to deserve knowing such an angel?” Hermione’s eyes widened, partially at the usage of the word <em>angel</em>- she doubted pure-bloods had that in their natural vocabulary- and she squeezed Narcissa gently. “I was… I was so scared,” Narcissa’s voice caught for a moment, “I saw it happen- couldn’t do anything about it. Or perhaps I should say as the <em>Slytherin </em>I am, I couldn’t. I wasn’t brave enough to help her, to stand up for Andy.”</p>
<p>“How old were you?” Hermione questioned softly, her mind conjuring up a Narcissa even younger than the one in that photograph she’d found at Grimmauld Place. A young Narcissa watching, feeling utterly helpless, settling into the relative safety net of a placid, unreadable countenance as Andromeda was disowned from the Black family.</p>
<p>Fingers grasped at her tighter. “Fifteen. I was fifteen,” Narcissa’s raspy voice answered.</p>
<p>Hermione pulled back, eyeing the tear tracks on Narcissa’s face, the reddened eyes. Still beautiful. So beautiful, though she wanted to make her smile again. She wondered if even Lucius had ever seen Narcissa vulnerable like this. As Narcissa searched her features, finally settling upon brown eyes, Hermione watched as Narcissa’s face transformed, small laughter taking the place of tears. Not sure what had caused this change, Hermione was grateful for it nonetheless as her head was tugged forward to settle beneath Narcissa’s chin and fingers languidly ran through her somewhat unruly brown curls. Hermione stroked Narcissa’s back and wondered idly if they could simply stay here forever. But night was falling, and the next morning they needed to be out of here. They needed sleep.</p>
<p>When she withdrew from Narcissa’s embrace, she watched as Narcissa’s eyes flickered between her eyes and her lips. Hermione’s lips twitched into a small smile and she thought back to what Narcissa had said earlier: <em>you are so beautiful. </em>But then she frowned slightly as she remembered what she’d said right after, that she would miss seeing her every Thursday. Narcissa noticed the change in demeanour and rested a gentle hand on her cheek. “What’s wrong, darling?”</p>
<p>Hermione drew her lips into a thin line and scrunched up her face, trying to not think the worst, but she... she needed to know. “You said that you would miss seeing me every Thursday. What did you mean by that?”</p>
<p>Narcissa stroked the pad of her thumb across Hermione’s skin. “I… you no longer have need to visit Bellatrix at Black Manor. And I… I don’t wish to presume anything else.”</p>
<p>“But you did! You… you looked as if you really meant we aren’t going to see each other again at all. Even if you didn’t actually <em>say</em> it.” She worried her lip between her teeth, hoping she sounded absolutely mad, but-</p>
<p>“If that is what you wish,” Narcissa stated simply, the only change in her features a barely-there crease between her eyebrows. She started to remove her hand, but Hermione took hold of Narcissa’s wrist and sat up on the bed, coaxing her to do the same. She stared at Narcissa, jaw set into a hard line, and shook her head.</p>
<p>“If <em>you </em>don’t want to see me anymore, that’s fine, I’ll… I’ll accept that. But that’s not what I want, it’s not what I <em>wish</em>.” She encased Narcissa’s hand within her own and rubbed it soothingly. “Gods, I don’t want this to turn into some terrible misunderstanding. I still want you in my life, Narcissa. I want-” but she caught herself, flicking her eyes back up to Narcissa’s instead of continuing to take in her pink lips. They were beautiful. Narcissa was beautiful.</p>
<p>“You- you said that I was beautiful. What do you mean-”</p>
<p>She was interrupted by a strangled sound coming from Narcissa, the woman’s eyes clenched shut, her other hand clapping over one of Hermione’s before she opened her eyes again, looking directly at her. “You impossible witch!” Narcissa exclaimed, and Hermione hoped that Andromeda was long past asleep and a heavy sleeper at that. With a knowing glint to her pale blue eyes, Narcissa huffed out, “You are <em>intelligent</em>, Hermione. You know very well what I meant.” Those same eyes drifted down to her lips again, and Hermione gaped at the blatant action. She wasn’t even <em>attempting </em>to be subtle about it at all this time, even more so than earlier, and it prodded Hermione to remove one of her hands from underneath Narcissa’s and softly touch her lower lip, watching as Narcissa’s eyes followed the direction her finger slid across it.</p>
<p>“Y-you- but-” she stammered, trying to get her brain to catch up to reality, “I-”</p>
<p>“You understand. I <em>know</em> you do,” Narcissa emphasised, “I was not able to do everything I wished to do before, but I… <em>tried </em>to make my intentions clearer today so that only an obtuse <em>idiot</em> would not catch on. And you, my dear, are neither obtuse nor an idiot. You were correct that I did not have to cover for you in front of my sister. But I did, and to further explain, it was done partially to let you know that I <em>knew </em>and was more than all right with it. I…” Narcissa looked at her with purpose. “I don’t ever wish to make you uncomfortable, Hermione. Now, do tell me, <em>how </em>do you want me in your life? And I would appreciate your Gryffindor straightforwardness.”</p>
<p><em>Tell her</em>… combine that with <em>Gryffindor straightforwardness</em>... and she realised-</p>
<p>Showing was better than telling in this case.</p>
<p>Hermione looked into Narcissa’s eyes, taking a moment to note how they were currently sitting. Both cross-legged, sat directly across from each other with knees touching, their hands still wrapped around each other. Hermione withdrew both of hers, something aching inside of her chest as Narcissa’s features expressed hurt before slipping into a bit more of an expressionless mask. She didn’t want her to close herself off! Hermione made a frustrated noise, discarded any ounce of decorum, said <em>sod it all</em> in her mind and moved forward to promptly place herself in Narcissa’s lap. Finally, Narcissa was forced to lift her gaze slightly instead of the other way around.</p>
<p>Ah. That’d done the trick. Halfway there, at least. Narcissa’s lips parted somewhat, and Hermione noted her darkening eyes, less of those blue irises visible. Hermione smirked through her shaking, pounding, nervous heartbeat, threading her fingers through Narcissa’s loosened hair that fell just below her shoulders. She dipped her head slightly, breath ghosting over Narcissa’s lips as she searched the woman’s eyes, waiting… waiting for a disapproval that never came. Consent was given with the tiniest of nods, and through the hammering of her heart, Hermione captured Narcissa's lips with her own.</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>. She smiled into the softness of Narcissa’s lips, and she didn’t have to wait long before Narcissa responded, her arms wrapping around Hermione as she gently kissed her back, and Hermione continued to thread one of her hands through Narcissa’s silken blonde hair while the other moved down to cradle her neck. It was slow, exploratory, but with the shadows of heated desire skimming the surface with small licks along the pink flesh and soft nibbles until Hermione’s hips instinctively rolled forward when Narcissa lightly grazed her teeth along her bottom lip. Hermione groaned at the slightly harsher contact, and Narcissa pulled away. Hermione ran the pads of her fingers along the nape of Narcissa’s neck, her gaze roaming over the flushed skin of Narcissa’s face. Her eyes were so dark now, blown wide with… oh Merlin. Narcissa Black truly <em>wanted </em>her.</p>
<p>Narcissa’s fingers wandered over Hermione’s back, her lips splitting into an unrestrained smile as she leaned forward, resting her head again Hermione’s chest. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long now.” The words rumbled against her, and she shivered at the implications of it all as she gently ran her fingers through Narcissa’s hair while they remained gathered close. It was as if they were in their own self-contained cocoon. Safe. Warm. Reassuring. Emotions she never thought she’d experience in <em>this</em> manor of all places.</p>
<p>“How long?” Hermione softly asked as she lightly, almost teasingly scratched at Narcissa’s scalp, drawing a small whimper from her.</p>
<p>Lightly tapping her fingertips against Hermione’s back, Narcissa cleared her throat and said, “Since… at least the middle of July or so? But I did not allow myself to accept these feelings for some time afterwards. It was…” she chuckled, as if remembering something funny, “actually <em>Lucius </em>who made me fully realise it. I told him that I had grown close to a Muggle-born while speaking to him about signing the divorce parchments. He immediately leapt to the idea of me <em>shagging </em>a Muggle-born… who he assumed to be a wizard.”</p>
<p>Hermione nearly choked on her own spit- “Sh- shagging?” Heat quickly spread up her neck to her face and she keenly noticed the rather compromising position they were in- if she had a different set of, to put it chastely, <em>plumbing</em>, she knew she’d have already been caught. Granted, it was not as if her hips had already betrayed her earlier… but it was only as Narcissa started giggling, lightening the moment, that Hermione did as well because <em>gods </em>was her laughter simply contagious.</p>
<p>“Yes, as apparently,” Narcissa breathed out through her laughter, “that is all wizards such as my former husband can think about when they grow <em>close </em>to another person, even if marriage vows forbid it.” She sighed, then, “The lack of common sense that takes, for Salazar’s sake...” Hermione continued playing with Narcissa’s hair, shaking her head at the sheer audacity of wizards like Lucius Malfoy. Though it did seem somewhat unlike Mr. Malfoy to forget the details of his own marriage vows; nevertheless, he was none of their concern.</p>
<p>They stayed like that for a few moments more until Narcissa mentioned they really should get ready for bed, <em>“as it is an early day tomorrow, darling.”</em> Hermione removed herself from Narcissa’s lap and waved the other witch on to wash up first, though Narcissa leaned down and laid a lingering kiss on her cheek before leaving. It was as she watched her retreating backside that everything that had just occurred washed over her- she’d <em>kissed </em>Narcissa Black. Right after her divorce was essentially all finalised, barring getting the official boot from this manor as well a few remaining potions she needed to finish. And her affections had been <em>returned</em>.</p>
<p>But on top of it all, they’d done so in <em>Malfoy Manor</em>! Hermione collapsed onto Narcissa’s bed, grabbed the other pillow, and shoved it into her face so Andromeda wouldn’t hear her laughing like a lunatic. But it was… this was so <em>rich</em>! She could only imagine Lucius Malfoy’s face if he knew. Draco… ah, he was another story entirely, Hermione thought as her laughter suddenly stopped. She’d… not given much thought to this actually becoming more than something entirely one-sided, and it was honestly still a bit hard to believe, but Narcissa’s actions and reactions… they surely spoke for themselves, didn’t they?</p>
<p>Gods, Ginny would be telling her to get a grip on herself right now and stop almost <em>doubting </em>right after she’d nearly started a bleeding snogging session with Narcissa. She couldn’t even blame these nagging feelings on the blood bond, still as quiet as when she’d first woken after taking the suppressant a little over a week ago. But without being fully cognisant of it, she found herself moving to her own transfigured bed, packing up the rest of her sparse items and only leaving what she’d need to get ready in the morning before they left. By the time she’d finished and moved on to unmake the bed, a lightly accusing voice rang out, “Now just <em>what</em> are you doing, Hermione?”</p>
<p>She turned partially to face Narcissa, her hands still grasping the bedsheets. Blinking rather dumbly, she stated the obvious. “Er, getting ready for bed? You did say we-”</p>
<p>“No,” Narcissa crossed the room and settled her hands on Hermione’s shoulders. “Unless you don’t want to, but my bed is large enough for the both of us, and I can surely have someone with me now. If you <em>want </em>to stay in this transfigured bed by yourself, then…” she sighed, wrinkling her nose, “then, by all means, go ahead, but mine is much more comfortable. I would like you to share my bed with me if that is amenable to you.”</p>
<p>Hermione licked her lips and simply stared at Narcissa for a moment. “So you, this-”</p>
<p>“<em>Only </em>for sleep tonight, darling,” which sent a deep blush across Hermione’s face, “And while we do have more to discuss, I will say one thing and one more thing only before you wash up, and before <em>we </em>get some much-needed rest after today’s events: I do not allow just <em>anyone </em>to kiss me, and I certainly do not <em>return </em>a kiss unless I <em>want </em>to. Do not doubt my feelings for you, Hermione, especially after tonight.”</p>
<p>All Hermione could think about in the shower were those words, the fervour with which Narcissa had spoken them, and the fingers that had caressed her cheek before sending her off to bathe. And the kissing. She couldn’t forget the feeling of sitting in Narcissa’s warm lap, the woman’s soft lips on hers, and for the life of her, she didn’t give a damn whether or not Andromeda came in the loo later and smelled sex again. A witch had bloody <em>needs</em>, and if she was going to successfully sleep in the same room, the same <em>bed </em>as Narcissa Black, she needed to release the tension that had built up. And so she did, returning to a smirking Narcissa some twenty minutes later.</p>
<p>“That bloody obvious?” she asked, half-grumbling as she climbed in under the covers. Narcissa hummed and sidled up behind her, wrapping her arms around Hermione.</p>
<p>“As I said, it’s only natural, darling,” the whisper came next to her ear. “Now that we’re all tuckered out and sated, though, this bed <em>is </em>more comfortable, isn’t it?” And with the comforting warmth of Narcissa’s body pressed up against her own, it certainly was.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Annnnnd, finally! I no longer feel like the personification of the "now kiss!" meme with these two!</p>
<p>Thanks to Erin26_94 for beta reading again- if anything is off about this, typos or whatnot, that'll be my fault being a Bad Author Who Continues to Slightly Tinker w/the Beta'ed Text in the AO3 Editor Before Publishing lmao. 🙈</p>
<p>—</p>
<p>In some sense, I feel this ends what I might call "Part One" of this fic. As for my current posting schedule, I will keep to Thursdays, but I may sometimes need to wait a bit longer between posting chapters so I can write far enough ahead as to <i>hopefully</i> not paint myself into a corner that produces dreadful plotholes or doesn't set things up appropriately. (Keyword: hopefully.)</p>
<p>tbh I was essentially staring/glaring at a blank Google document for a future chapter for over a week and a half off-and-on until less than a week ago when I finished my first full reread of this fic and got some of my motivation/inspiration back (probably helped to get snowed and iced in for a full week, the joys of living in the Southeastern US skjfa;djkf). And as I was writing that chapter, I found myself having to go back and add some things to chapters before it, so there's that for a little behind-the-scenes info!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>hermione tells a friend about narcissa, and we find out what happened the morning after their kiss.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi hello thank you all so much for your comments on the last chapter and for your patience between chapters! i was going to try and get to this earlier but couldn't properly focus on it while writing another cissamione fic (which is now finished). anyway! fact about this chapter: this and the next one (which i plan on publishing next thursday) were originally one entire chapter. but on my final read, i found what seemed like a natural chapter endpoint in the middle of that doc, so now you get two 5k+ word chapters which hopefully will read better on their own than as the original 10k+ word one! the next chapter will have more from narcissa's pov.</p><p>thanks to Erin26_94 for beta'ing again!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She loved Ginny, she really did. Even if she had to remind herself of it every time she was asked for more details or to repeat herself on how her relationship with Narcissa Malfoy, no, Narcissa <em>Black</em> had developed. Because of course she’d been too worried about Narcissa to even <em>think</em> of coming up with a believable excuse to explain away vacating the premises of Hogwarts for three days and nearly an entire weekend. She’d slipped up, and then she’d paid for it. But was it truly paying for it when it loosened the weight upon her shoulders?</p><p>
  <em>“There’s no reason to even try lying, is there?” she’d half-heartedly grumbled, leaning against the doorframe to her quarters as Ginny stared up at her from a couple of steps below, refusing to back down or leave. She’d then made a disgruntled noise and gently pushed Hermione back into the room, shutting the door behind them.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Roughly an hour later, Ginny Weasley knew she had kissed Narcissa Black.</em>
</p><p>“Remind me again how Mrs. Tonks got involved,” Ginny spoke around a bite of Yorkshire pudding a little over a week later. Hermione looked at her disapprovingly but all Ginny did was roll her eyes and swallow. Then took a bit of care with a napkin brushed across her lips, raising her eyebrows as if asking Hermione to get onto her after that.</p><p>The Great Hall… wasn’t the place for this sort of discussion, or truly <em>any </em>sort of discussion remotely about Narcissa. Only select people even <em>knew </em>that she had been in contact with her after the war because it was wrapped around the classified status of Bellatrix Black’s continued existence. Hermione took only a few seconds to glance up towards the High Table at Professor Snyde, but it was long enough to notice her professor give the slimmest of nudges to her mind. Constant bloody vigilance, Mad-Eye would have said. Hermione slid slightly more sophisticated defences up now that they’d had another private Occlumency lesson, and the professor gave her an approving nod before resuming her conversation with Professor Marlowe.</p><p>Hermione took a drink of pumpkin juice from her goblet and made a face. “Never told you in the first place, Ginny.” Before she could make up something or come up with a believable excuse to not tell Ginny the truth, her friend groaned and flicked at her arm. She frowned at the action but said nothing.</p><p>“Now <em>see</em>, that’s it. There’s still <em>gaps</em> in your story, Hermione.” They made eye contact, and even though Ginny had no skill for Legilimency, Hermione knew she was done for with those damned sodding doe eyes the youngest Weasley could pull off without a hitch. This was the witch she’d to some degree taken under her wing after the debacle that was Tom Riddle’s Horcrux diary. The witch who was the closest thing to a sister she’d ever had. And most importantly now, the witch she’d not let herself confide in like she… she <em>should</em> have.</p><p>“I’m not my brother—Ron, specifically, I mean—so it’s not like I’m a clueless git who can’t see the missing puzzle pieces at times.” Hermione fiddled with the hem of her school jumper, seeing no sure way out of this. But it couldn’t happen <em>here</em>. “Look, either you trust me or you don’t. You haven’t heard anything from Ron, or even Harry for that matter yet, have you?”</p><p>She blinked, realisation washing over her. Ginny had… “Er, no… no, I haven’t,” Hermione muttered out of the corner of her mouth, ducking her head to the side. Calloused from Quidditch fingers gripped her chin and coaxed her to look back at Ginny while she was informed that there was a <em>reason</em> for that. “I– okay, I haven’t said <em>everything</em>, but… not here, all right? Not…”</p><p>Ginny’s eyes softened in understanding and Hermione thought it a nice change from the mischief that typically shone clear through. “Room of Requirement, then?” Ginny asked, her voice barely breaking through the din of the rest of the Great Hall. “You make the rules for it, I’ll follow you in. How’s that sound?”</p><p>
  <em>Reassuring.</em>
</p><p>“Sounds great.” The small smile she gave Ginny came easy.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>It took everything out of her, telling Ginny. She apologised for willfully perverting some of the truth of how she and Narcissa started to grow closer. Told Ginny the truth about bloody well wetting herself in front of the most poised pure-blooded witch she knew, only to have said witch shatter all prior misconceptions she’d developed about her ever since first seeing her at the Quidditch World Cup. Not as if those misconceptions had already been cracking at the edges due to their exchange of letters and gradually building camaraderie, but it’d truly been that day that’d started to change everything.</p><p>She told Ginny about Andromeda Tonks being her Healer at St. Mungo’s.</p><p>Told her about all of the small things that led to her fancying Narcissa that she’d left out.</p><p>Told her bloody well <em>everything</em>, and answered all of Ginny's questions to the best of her ability.</p><p>There’d been so much <em>to </em>tell Ginny that she wondered if she’d gotten it all across, though by the way her mouth was so dry afterwards that the room supplied her with a tall glass of ice-cold water, she doubted she’d missed one thing. It’d all simply… come out like a rushing waterfall. It was no wonder that it took Ginny a minute to formulate any sort of coherent response.</p><p>Ginny exhaled slowly, whistling low for a moment before responding. “First… of course I won't tell anyone, but… blimey Hermione. You take on too much by yourself, you know that?”</p><p>She turned her head on the supremely comfortable couch she was lying on and shot a rueful smile in Ginny’s direction. The younger Gryffindor was pacing in front of a fireplace that the room had supplied, her hands wrung out, energy buzzing so much that if it were any greater Hermione didn’t doubt that she’d be able to <em>hear </em>it. Compared to Ginny she was the picture of calm but knew that Ginny knew her well enough to decipher her stillness, her outward air of calm as anything but. The only physical sign of the maelstrom going on inside of her head was her right foot lightly tapping in the air just beyond the opposite arm of the couch.</p><p>Ginny finally stopped and sat cross-legged on the carpet the room had provided them with. After a few moments of silence, she watched as Ginny idly tugged at the carpeting and saw the shock in her eyes as she was able to physically pull some of it up, almost like a shag carpet without the appearance of one. Immediately afterwards the patch of carpet regrew itself. She looked on as Ginny tugged the lush carpet fibres between her hands. Something tactile to focus on helped ground her; Hermione had seen it in years past, so she specifically asked for it for Ginny when creating the room.</p><p>“Before you say anything else, Ginny,” Hermione turned on the sofa so she lay on her side, fully facing Ginny, “I know I should’ve…” she winced, acutely realising the weight of her months-long postponement in telling Ginny the truth, “I should have trusted you the moment you noticed the scar and only wanted to help me. But I– I’m not used to really…”</p><p>“Willingly confiding in people?” Ginny offered. “Yeah, you’ve got a bit of a track record for it, and Harry and Ron are great when they’ve got their heads on right– don’t tell Ron I said that, though,” Ginny grinned and shook her head, “but they’ve never been the best at–”</p><p>Hermione lightly shrugged her shoulders. “Right, I know. Harry, well–”</p><p>“<em>He’s </em>at least had some worthy excuses over the years, and you’re well aware, I suppose, how his Muggle relatives treated him?” Ginny’s eyes flicked over to hers before looking back towards the fireplace, her shoulders squared up and tense. Gods, it was clear she cared for Harry something fierce. “Not as if that gets him off scot-free, though,” Ginny quickly added.</p><p>“I gathered as much as I could about his situation, though he didn’t like to talk about it.” Hermione curled her arms around herself and pulled her legs up somewhat. She remembered picking up bits and pieces from letters, snippets of conversations, like a trail of crumbs she’d had to sort through. And the way Harry acted made it abundantly clear that he hadn’t ever been properly cared for. His aunt should’ve been like a second mother to him, his uncle at least a proper, caring man, but… no, he’d never gotten that kind of love. She’d not pressed him on it, though. Only cared for him the best she could.</p><p>Ginny hummed. “Harry’s one I’ve had to work on to open up, but blimey, Hermione, you could <em>almost </em>give him a run for his money. You would’ve hidden that scar if you’d been able to in time, I’d bet. Only luck I caught you distracted with your sleeve up that day.”</p><p>… She couldn’t argue with that, only shifted her eyes from Ginny to the fireplace and then back. “It’s not as if I could get honest therapy for all of it, anyway.” An attempt at deflection which led to confusion at that, by the look on Ginny’s face.</p><p>“What’s therapy?” Ginny asked, perplexion clear on her face until, “Oh, wait, Harry mentioned…” she trailed off, her eyes glazing over for a moment before asking thoughtfully, “It’s a Muggle thing, isn’t it?”</p><p>"Yes," Hermione said, then finally sat up on the sofa. “It’s not talked about much in the Muggle world and has a stigma to it, but it exists. My parents were… <em>are</em> proponents of it. Something else Wizarding society sorely needs in some fashion, because simply stuffing addictive potions down someone’s throat isn’t…” She sighed. “But… for Godric’s sake, all the changes the Ministry needs to make, it’s too much for…” she hesitated, eyes slowly widening. Then, in a hushed murmur, “For me to try and spearhead on my own.” She stared into the fireplace, watching as the flames licked each other in some semblance of an intimate, heated dance.</p><p>She thrived off others needing her.</p><p>She suffered from others needing her.</p><p>A conundrum, indeed.</p><p>Slowly she admitted, “Sometimes I fancy packing up and moving back to the Muggle world for a while. But I don’t… I don’t even have my parents to go back to yet, and I’ve got no real qualifications for work there.” Ginny dropped the patch of carpet she’d still been fiddling with and came to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close. A scent of cedarwood and petrichor radiated off Ginny and distinctly reminded Hermione of the Burrow, of running back in from their makeshift Quidditch pitch, a game that ended during a downpour in the summer before her sixth year. She wished she could store all those happy, carefree memories together— which, technically, she could.</p><p>“I’ll shove my own biases aside for the moment,” Ginny said, “and say nothing’s stopping you from taking a break. None of us wanna lose you, Hermione, for good I mean, but we couldn’t begrudge you taking time for yourself. I mean, <em>Merlin,</em> you’ve already given so much. But the Hermione Granger <em>I </em>know would at least want to finish her N.E.W.T.s first before taking a holiday.” A soft, playful nudge from Ginny’s shoulder prodded her out of her swirling thoughts.</p><p>“Mm, you’re right.” Hermione turned her head to rest it near Ginny’s collarbone. She could feel the faint beating of the other witch’s heart. “Did I thank you for not blowing up after telling you all this? Ron would’ve–”</p><p>An arm subtly tightened around her. “Again, thank Merlin I’m not him, then. Hot-headed Weasley I am, sure, but not when it comes to this. Not unless you bloody well <em>murdered</em> someone, and even then if you had good cause for defending yourself–”</p><p>Her chest vibrated with laughter, and Hermione wrapped her arms around Ginny. “Gods, I should’ve come to you earlier, Gin.”</p><p>“Mhmm, for someone who’s called the brightest witch of her age—”</p><p>Maybe<em> this</em> was what having a sister might have been like. Rolling off the couch at the mention of that damned nickname and mock-fighting until they were breathless from laughter, until Ginny brought up that one time Hermione excused herself a few months ago because, and she quoted,<em> “you’re gonna make me wee myself!” </em>Yeah, that’s exactly why a sodding <em>loo </em>appeared off the room partway through rolling around on the carpet, mock-fighting Muggle-style.</p><p>It felt bloody amazing to not have to hide anything from Ginny anymore.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>One letter a week to Narcissa. One. She’d told Ginny about it, more like <em>complained </em>honestly, and she remembered how her friend had pressed her lips together and evaded catching Hermione’s gaze for a few moments. Thought back to flicking harmless wand sparks her way until Ginny mock-glared at her, only to rub awkwardly at the back of her neck and admit that she actually,<em> kind of</em> understood where Narcissa was coming from, telling Hermione that in her case, she’d initially been cross with Harry for breaking up with her for nearly an entire year over some stupid, noble reason.</p><p>
  <em>“It’s not exactly the same, but-”</em>
</p><p><em>“We’re not </em>dating<em>, for one thing, so it’s not a breakup!” Hermione had asserted, a heavy flush on her face.</em></p><p><em>“Right, of course,” Ginny rolled her eyes. “But as I was </em>trying <em>to say, I </em>was <em>cross with him, but no matter the reason, it </em>is <em>a surefire way to tell if you’re </em>actually <em>in it for the long haul. I missed him so bloody much, and, well, after the war ended, there was a lot of pent up…” she’d trailed off, her lips tugging up in a slow grin, and Hermione exhaled slowly.</em></p><p><em>“Yeah, all right– I love you, but I </em>don’t<em> need the details, Ginny. Still… I still find it so bloody ridiculous sometimes.</em><em>” She’d groaned into her hands.</em></p><p>Hermione huffed, retrieved one of her finer quality quills, and dipped it in the fresh inkpot, again mulling over what she and Narcissa had spoken of the morning after that first kiss in Malfoy Manor.</p><p>
  <em>Returning from the loo, Hermione had crept into the bedroom she and Narcissa had shared for the past few days. For the space of half a minute she’d believed she hadn’t woken Narcissa by leaving the bed, but when she climbed back in a sudden low voice, tinged with the raspy dregs of sleep, startled her. “Mm, you came back,” said Narcissa, and Hermione heard her clear her throat before turning to face her. Hermione’s face warmed at the sight of a few blonde locks of hair falling haphazardly over Narcissa’s face, her fingers itching to tuck them away behind an ear. Then there was that sleepy gaze, that hint of a smile, yet also a tinge of apprehension.</em>
</p><p><em>“Of course I did,” she murmured, then succumbed to temptation and brushed the hair out of Narcissa’s face. “Didn’t particularly feel like wetting the bed </em>intentionally<em>, you know.” At Narcissa’s light spark of laughter, her eyes scrunching shut for a few moments, Hermione cracked a tiny grin. She was tugged into Narcissa’s hold after and rested her head against the silky fabric of her négligée. Narcissa Black, an early morning cuddler.</em></p><p>
  <em>She fell back asleep before she could form another coherent thought, comforted and warmed by slender arms that held her snugly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>When she woke next, she blinked and found that she was half laying in Narcissa’s lap as the other witch was sitting up reading the morning copy of the Daily Prophet. Fingers tenderly worked their way through her hair, taming it somewhat in the process, and she softly nudged her head against Narcissa’s abdomen, drawing blue eyes down to meet hers.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Morning,” she said, then upon hearing the roughness to her voice cleared her throat and grinned sheepishly. “How’re you feeling today?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Narcissa smiled down at her, teasing fingers through her unruly curls once more before stilling. “Nearly there, darling. You… you have been a greater help than you may realise.” Setting the paper down on the bedside table she cast one last cursory look at it, and Hermione registered Narcissa worrying at her lips before turning back to her. “I am so very grateful for your presence in my life, Hermione. I want you to know that.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione pursed her lips together, a growing sense of unease coming over her. She moved to prop herself up better, eyeing Narcissa carefully. “What’s wrong? You... Do you regret what–” She was cut off as Narcissa kissed her and her heart constricted at soft lips pressing on hers. As she returned it, she placed a hand around the back of Narcissa’s neck, fingers loosely grasping at the shorter strands at her nape.</em>
</p><p><em>“I don’t regret it, Hermione. As I said last night, do not doubt my feelings for you. </em>Please.<em>” The words came as a heavy whisper against her lips, warm breath ghosting over her skin. Narcissa pulled back, her gaze gentle. “What… what I </em>will <em>regret, though, now that I have slept on all of this... is not allowing us any time to ourselves to properly consider our… </em>unique<em> situation, now that we are no longer bound by your arrangement with my sister...” she trailed off, glancing towards the Prophet again. </em></p><p><em>With an affronted huff, Hermione said, “You do at least remember that I don’t care what papers like the </em>Prophet <em>have to say, right?” Narcissa narrowed her eyes by a fraction.</em></p><p>
  <em>“I am aware, yes. It’s not only the papers, though. There is the matter of my sister– of Bellatrix, that is. She knew already that we were close enough to call each other by our first names, but,” Narcissa sighed, shutting her eyes for a moment and pinching the bridge of her nose, “Before I was indisposed, I visited her to insist that she not bring up what happened the night she Floo’d me about you.”</em>
</p><p><em>“The night at the Griffin’s Nest,” she breathed, fully sitting up and crossing her legs as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. “I’d wondered why she didn’t– oh, Narcissa.” Even though she was still frustrated by this turn of events, that it </em>sounded<em> as if Narcissa wanted to not see her for some undetermined amount of time which was bloody ludicrous, she couldn’t keep herself from leaning forward and hugging her. “Thank you. For thinking of me like that.”</em></p><p>
  <em>A voice drifted by her ear, “Please know that I’m continuing to think of you, darling. I need to figure out how best to handle my sister who has realised that we developed feelings for each other,” —Hermione’s breath hitched, even though part of her wasn’t surprised— “and though she says she will not interfere, I…” Narcissa cleared her throat. “Yes. There is that, among other things that I need to focus on alone. Rebuilding myself as a Black, reaching out to people that I never have before. Perhaps with Andromeda’s aid. I need to see what I can truly do on my own, now that I am fully free of my marital vows.</em>
</p><p><em>“And you,” Hermione looked slightly upward into Narcissa’s eyes as a pale hand cupped one of her cheeks, “You have your N.E.W.T. lessons, considering what you wish to do after commencement, your work with the BSRA, your </em>friends<em>. Be </em>young<em>, have the fun you haven’t been able to truly experience while that blood bond was active.”</em></p><p>
  <em>“You’re acting as if I can’t have fun with you there,” she grumbled, and she had half a mind to pout, too. “But about what you said… ‘properly consider our unique situation,’ what do you mean? Do you–” A finger came up and pressed gently against her mouth. Hermione knew she could shove Narcissa’s arm away, but something stopped her. Perhaps that plaintive cast to her face.</em>
</p><p><em>“After what we’ve both been through, our ‘unique situation,’ one would almost assume it natural for two witches who love other witches to develop… certain feelings. Though I do not doubt what I feel for you, the Slytherin in me wants to come at it from all angles and make sure,” Narcissa stroked her cheek, causing a shiver to pass over Hermione that made her shut her eyes for a moment, “that this will last beyond the arrangement, the </em>situation<em> that originally brought us together. And that we are </em>prepared <em>for whatever will be thrown at us. All of this as a precautionary measure.”</em></p><p>
  <em>Hermione, unable to think clearly with Narcissa touching her, got off the bed and began to pace slowly. She worked through all she’d heard, not even noticing Narcissa until a hand wrapped around her shoulder. She jumped a little, then turned to look at… oh for Merlin’s sake, she was still only in that damned négligée! Something seemed to register in Narcissa’s eyes, though, because in the next moment she had transfigured the article of clothing into a proper button-up blouse and flowing skirt that went past her knees.</em>
</p><p><em>“Thanks,” Hermione muttered. “But, then– are you saying that you don’t </em>trust <em>my feelings for you? Because after all of this, after </em>last night<em>, you don’t get the </em>right<em> to tell me that this isn’t…” She groaned and buried her head in her hands. She was being too brash, swerving toward reckless words that she’d likely regret. Heaving a sigh, she ran her hands roughly through her hair, but still couldn’t shake the weighty indignation that threatened to consume her. How dare Narcissa try to speak for—</em></p><p><em>“I trust your feelings, Hermione</em>, <em>the same as I trust my own. Please don’t doubt that. I merely– I am certain that though it is unpleasant, you can see the logic in my argument, bright as you are.” And Narcissa was… Hermione pressed her lips together in a thin line, trying to see it as Narcissa did. As a Slytherin would. And… well, yes, she supposed that Narcissa had something of a point, however much she hated to admit it.</em></p><p><em>People put into situations like the one they’d been placed in because of Bellatrix… could contribute to the two of them developing certain feelings for each other. But she also knew in the back of her mind that it could have simply led to friendship as well. Nothing or no one had pressured her into developing false romantic feelings for Narcissa as she had for Ron. If anything, Narcissa being Bellatrix’s sister should have probably, definitely </em>dissuaded <em>her. But.</em></p><p><em>She blew out a harsh breath finally and gave a reluctant nod. “I bloody well hate being wrong, but…” she worried at her lip, “you do have a bit of point. Logically. If there can even </em>be <em>logic to emotions. But I…” a pause, and her voice took on a harsher tone, “We finally get to this stage only to, what? </em>Disappear<em> from each other’s lives for some undetermined amount of time?” She threw her hands up in the air and ground out, “That… that’s just bloody </em>ludicrous<em>. I can’t– I said just last night that I want you in my life, and then you throw </em>this<em> at me? Why did we even kiss at all, then, if you’re going to–” Hermione heard her voice crack and she winced, clapping a hand over her mouth. She needed to stop blurting out every bloody thought that passed through her head!</em></p><p>
  <em>Narcissa's eyes had softened considerably, though, her brows knit together, and Hermione noticed the way pale fingers were fidgeting at the hemline of her blouse. She heard Narcissa sigh, saw how she’d tensed up. “Is it correct of me to assume that you did not mean to say that last part, just as I did not mean to come across as toying with your emotions?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione, her shoulders slumped, didn’t remove her hand from her mouth but nodded in response. She still didn’t fully trust herself to not say something else before thinking.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“All right. Also… it’s not for an undetermined amount of time,” Narcissa started off again softly, “I never said that.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh, I…” Hermione let her hand fall from her mouth and frowned. “I’m sorry. I presumed wrongly, then?”</em>
</p><p><em>“Yes, you did.” Narcissa came closer. “And I remember what you said, Hermione. I, too, want you in mine. I never meant for this to mean disappearing from each other’s lives.” She rubbed at her chin thoughtfully, looking over Hermione’s shoulder into the middle distance. “We </em>can <em>still talk to each other, though,” she finally spoke again, returning her attention to Hermione. “Owl each other with proper missives. Catch each other up on our lives once a week. This doesn’t need to mean absolutely </em>no <em>contact. I would never want that.” A faint glimmer passed over her eyes, and Hermione couldn’t help but notice it as something that seemed, almost as if they had shone with some sort of… longing? Hesitant delight? She cast her curiosity aside, though, and found that… agreeable enough. Barring one thing she still needed to know.</em></p><p>
  <em>She took a moment to think Narcissa’s words over. “Still not fond of this, but… that helps. The prospect of writing to each other. But I need a rough estimate of a time period, at least. A month? Two? I don’t want to have to resort to asking Andy about you, but I will if I have to.” Narcissa looked at her and licked her lips.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“At least… a month? Certainly ending before the Yule and Christmas holidays, because even if things change I would like to still be your friend, Hermione.” And she smiled at that. She didn’t want Narcissa to completely leave her life, ever, and was glad that Narcissa felt the same way. Though she knew her feelings weren’t going to change… if, for some reason, Narcissa’s did, the reassurance that they could still be friends… though she knew it would hurt at first, she was certain she could handle that. If it came down to it.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She just wanted Narcissa Black in her life.</em>
</p><p>And, well, she definitely knew better than to disobey such clear instructions on a letter a week from her to Narcissa. There were simply some rules, whether ironclad and official or teasingingly made-up, that she <em>didn’t</em> particularly want to break. And this? This was one of them.</p><p>Tapping her quill once more against her lips, she began to write.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Narcissa,</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>I hope you don’t mind that I’ve told Ginny everything. She wouldn’t let it rest, saw right through my flimsy excuse for leaving the castle for three days and most of a weekend. She has a streak of Slytherin in her, I swear. To clarify, I mean </em>everything<em>. She’s trustworthy, though. If you can extend your trust in me to matters of </em>others’<em> trustworthiness, that is.</em></p>
  <p><em>Sorry, I shouldn’t have– I should erase that last sentence, but for sake of transparency I won’t. You know by now that I’m a hot-headed Gryffindor sometimes, even if I wish I– that is, I mean that I now better understand why we’re doing this, but that doesn’t mean I have to be fond of it at all. As you well know. I won’t renege on it, though. My word is my word. But I will adamantly say that you are </em>not <em>another Ronald Weasley to me, Narcissa, not in the slightest. I never felt pressured into a role as I did with him. But you’ve already heard all of that, so. Onto the purpose of these missives.</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>Since we last saw each other I’ve continued my Occlumency lessons with Professor Snyde. She says that I’m getting “marginally better,” which I take to mean decent progress, as most of the time you Slytherins are not that forthcoming with praise. She reminded me that I don’t have to keep at it now that we’ve got your suppressant and I don’t have to see Bellatrix again, but once I start something I have to finish it. And perhaps it’ll come handy elsewhere someday.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Hermione stopped writing after a few more minutes and set her quill down, stretching out her fingers and popping the knuckles. As she looked out of the window before her, she thought back to when she found out through Justin that exchanging missives to get to know each other were sometimes part of Wizarding courting rituals. Proper ones, at least. All this she’d found out <em>after</em> she’d already left Narcissa promising that she’d keep to their letter-only contact. Bloody witch. Now Justin knew she was in the middle of something with a pure-blood witch, which led to… ugh. She couldn’t even think about it further. He’d mentioned <em>Pansy Parkinson</em>, as if she’d ever–!</p><p>After that encounter, she’d tried to open her Floo in her quarters from sheer frustration only to find that Narcissa <em>had</em> been true to her word, informing the Ministry as well as Professor McGonagall that she’d made a suppressant that halted the need for Hermione and Bellatrix to meet at Black Manor. Which consequently meant that Narcissa had no need to make further vials for either witch. The end result was a disconnection of the Floo within her quarters; it was merely another fireplace now. And she knew better than to ask for it to be opened again– even if Professor McGonagall <em>did </em>favour her, she couldn’t ask that of the Headmistress.</p><p>So she settled back into writing the letter to Narcissa. It’d been… more than a challenge to still her quill hand for a little over a week since she had last seen the other witch, but she’d needed a bit of time to cool down and she wanted enough material to write a proper missive, however much it cramped her hand and wrist up. Considering the owls sent between her and Draco as well as Ernie in the past week or so and the time she’d spent speaking with Justin in the castle, she did have plenty to say about the BSRA, and she only hoped that she wasn’t repeating anything that Draco may have already related to his mother. She snuck in that it appeared he had no clue about what had happened between them, then immediately segued into her slow research into the journal she was using.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>It did make… not sure if </em>yelp<em> is the right word, but it made an off-putting noise when I cast a modified </em>revelio<em> charm on its spine. I can definitely tell that that’s where the magical signature is strongest. Its point of origin, that is. I learned to not do that again, though– it wouldn’t open up for me at all for a few days afterward, which I had to explain to Professor Snyde. Touchy thing, it is.</em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>She just did keep herself from blatantly telling Narcissa that she missed her. Instead, she’d been reading about imbuing intent onto letters and hoped that she’d gotten hers right before sealing it into an envelope and sending it off via school owl to either Black Manor or that cottage Narcissa was supposedly starting to settle into. Owls were smart little creatures. It’d know where to find her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Narcissa receives an owl from Draco while visiting Andromeda, Hermione works alongside Justin Finch-Fletchley to find a Muggle geneticist, and letters are exchanged between Narcissa and Hermione.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You were always the one with the most sensible head, Cissa.”</p><p>Well, she could toast to that in spite of her highly conflicted emotions. Afterwards, she took more than what was considered a <em>delicate </em>sip from her flute of wine and tossed a functional prototype of a Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes’ product, tentatively called <em>Firewhiskey Features</em>, into the flames a few strides away from where she and Andromeda had settled on the sofa in the Tonks’ residence. Andy’s daughter had left it nearby, choosing to spend the evening with Merula Snyde at Hogwarts with Teddy, leaving the two sisters alone to catch up.</p><p>The white powder was swallowed by the fire and shadow puppet figures emerged in the midst of the flames, putting on some sort of show. It certainly wasn’t a complete tale for a finished product, but in spite of that, it made her laugh at its sheer absurdity in storytelling. Which she instantly regretted because Andromeda then said that she was going to report that back to George Weasley. “If he can make <em>you </em>laugh, he’s got a promising product!”</p><p>“Are you saying that I don’t have a sense of humour?” she asked, affronted that her sister could ever possibly think such a thing. Andy smacked her lightly on her thigh and pouted before taking another long swig from her own glass.</p><p>“To think you took it that way instead of the compliment I meant it as. You wound me, Cissy. Cissa-cissy. Cissyyy.” She giggled and took another drink before Narcissa pulled the flute away from her. “Perhaps… should’ve meant it that way. But you’ve got– you’ve got <em>standards</em>, Cissaaa! That’s… right, that’s what I <em>meant</em>. Yes.” Andy hiccoughed and giggled again. Their mother would have a heart attack if she were alive to see it. To see them. The thought rather pleased Narcissa.</p><p>At another drunken rambling from Andromeda, she rolled her eyes and stood up, offering both her hands to her sister, unable to keep her lips from curling in a small smile. Andy only stared at them, then up at her. She took one of Andromeda’s hands in her own, patting it as she ordered, “Up you come. You’ve had a bit too much, and it’s hitting you rather strongly now. Though for only being <em>wine</em>, I swear you must have put a firewhiskey in yours.”</p><p>Once she’d gotten Andromeda safely under her covers and dosing off, Narcissa leaned against the window frame, watching as some Muggles made their way along the street below. She thought back to Hermione’s letter and the lack of any mention of the witch’s parents. It wasn’t her place to directly say anything about it to her, but she still couldn’t help but feel some concern that the younger woman was directing her attention anywhere else but towards her mother and father. For what reason or end she didn’t know but felt it a prudent use of her time now to make a simple inquiry to the Australian Ministry.</p><p>
  <em>“They go by Wendell and Monica Wilkins now,” Hermione had told her what felt like some time ago now.<br/>
</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And their real names?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Hermione had smiled warmly, though it was tinged with some sorrow. “Anthony and Jean Granger. And Jean’s my middle name. It’s like… like I get to keep part of her with me no matter what.”</em>
</p><p>As she watched Andy’s owl head out to the international owlery in Diagon Alley, another passed it by heading towards the still open window. Narcissa cooed as Artemis landed on her shoulder, extending a letter from her son towards her. She read the letter while stroking the bird’s feathers just the way she liked it.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Mother,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I do hope that your first meeting with Lady Macmillan and Abbott went swimmingly. Ernie has yet to mention anything, but I take that as more of a good sign than anything else. He’s rather wrapped up with courting Justin and his work at the Apparition Test Center most of the time.</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>Work at the DMLE is slightly better. A few brave (or foolish, depending on one’s point-of-view) Muggle-borns, a handful of half-bloods as well as pure-bloods from what Father calls “lesser” Houses speak with me, though not in the open. Understandable, of course. Harry Potter visits from time to time and does not care for his own reputation as he speaks openly with me. Not as if his reputation even </em>could <em>be damaged.</em></p>
  <p><em>Lastly, I have been to tea with Lady Crabbe and Goyle thrice more. I cannot include anything of confidential import or else it will be scrubbed from this letter, but I can say that nothing of import </em>has <em>seemed to have happened. Even the Investigative Auror Division can’t find anything from within my reports.<br/>
</em></p>
  <p><em>It isn’t as if the two have much going on to speak of. They have even taken to sharing a few family photo albums with me, and I have seen</em> far <em>too many photos of Crabbe and Goyle. I will say that I thought I saw other children appear in the photos a few times, but when I brought them up they only laughed and said a few were faulty images. You might think that they could afford the highest quality cameras and film.</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>Oh, I also tried the slightest amount of Legilimency on them only to be greeted by a faint fuzziness, like the feeling of a Muggle cotton ball that Justin showed me. With ease I saw a few foggy memories, all relatively harmless, especially for Dark witches. I remember finding almost the same with their sons when first learning Legilimency and have to wonder if it runs in the family.<br/>
</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>They </em>did <em>ask about Father, but I said nothing damning, merely that I visit him at least once a month and speak on the future of the House of Malfoy with him. Though I believe they wonder </em>far<em> too much about his health; however... Lady Goyle’s husband is also in Azkaban. She, at least, likely wonders if Father is being treated any better with the money that he has no access to.</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>Lady Crabbe also inquired about you. As the divorce is yet to appear in the papers for public consumption, I saw no reason to bring it up. We’re Slytherins. We keep things close to our chest, as both you and Father taught me. And before you ask, Mother, I will handle any fallout. If there is any.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>As for your inquiry as to my most recent visit with Father at Azkaban, he is… no worse off, not terribly so, at least. Physically, that is. His mind is another matter entirely. I wish they would allow the prisoners some outlet for their energies and that they wouldn’t completely strip their magic from them. Since they are not children, though, there is no risk to develop an Obscurus, fortunately. But Father… he mumbles about the strangest things at times. Besides rambling on about those he still calls “half-breeds,” most recently he also brought up Squibs, if you dare to believe he would ever utter the word at all after his reaction to my inquiry into them as a boy!</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>But I have been writing for far too long; my wrist is cramping dreadfully. Please, though, if you need any more help moving into Black Cottage, owl me.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Your son,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Draco</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Doing her best to ignore a spot of pain that sliced through her head as she reached the end of the letter, Narcissa let the parchment drift onto the desk and studied Draco’s words a few more times, drawing her finger across where his quill had scratched across the parchment, appreciative of the surety, growing strength and steadfastness he had imparted onto the letter. He seemed to be doing better, and he was protecting what needed to be protected. She felt it in her heart that he would be the one to bring back the Malfoy name better than it had been in centuries to the entire Wizarding populace of Britain <em>and</em> France while he was at it. He was more than capable, her Dragon was.</p><p>Disregarding the slightly worrisome portions of the letter for the time being, she took solace in the good until her thoughts yet again managed to meander to Bellatrix. Never had she quite imagined serving as her sister’s keeper as she was currently. Though Hermione need not see Bella now that the suppressant was in effect, Narcissa couldn’t very well leave her sister to her own devices, alone in that blasted manor. That, and she had had a meeting with Minister Shacklebolt as well as a representative from the Reparations Committee on the matter. They agreed upon her spending mornings with Bella on Sundays and Tuesdays, while afternoons and evening visits were reserved for Thursdays and Fridays. High-ranking Aurors, magically bound to secrecy, checked in on her on the other days.</p><p>Narcissa managed to persuade the ministerial board in control of Bella’s magic to release a few harmless duelling spells and all gardening spells to her sister because she remembered that Bella had held a certain fondness for Herbology while at Hogwarts. The duelling spells were only activated during formal duels with Narcissa, and at the end of one of their most recent visits she’d wound up with far too many stinging hexes on her body. Enough so that she wrote to the ministerial board and received written word that they had then released all healing spells to Bella. There was certainly no harm in it.</p><p>
  <em>“You know, Cissy, I’ve been having a few… woolly dreams and such lately,” her eldest sister had offhandedly murmured to her as she set about healing the jinxes she’d thrown her way during their duel. Narcissa glanced from Bella’s gentle hand on her exposed midsection to her sister’s face, noting the slight contortion of it. She frowned.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Woolly?”</em>
</p><p><em>Bellatrix smoothed Narcissa’s blouse back down and waved a hand flippantly. “Confusing, vague, blurred-like. What you see after waking and rubbing at your eyes. Scratchy, too, though I don’t know how to describe</em> that<em> to you.” Now it was Bellatrix’s lips turning downward, her brow creased in thought. “It’s fucked, but it’s not that bond, of course. Maybe it’s my madness.” And Bella cackled, though Narcissa saw it for what it was: deflection.</em></p><p>
  <em>“Does it make you feel anything for…?” she worried, because if it did—</em>
</p><p><em>“The mudblood woman? </em>Granger<em>?” Bellatrix smirked. “Nope,” and she popped the ‘p’ at the end. “Merlin, to be able to sodding well </em>say <em>it again.” Her sister had sighed in relief, and Narcissa hadn’t the patience to question anything.</em></p><p>But for all Bella boasted, she didn’t say the slur anymore during that visit and hardly in any of the rest. Narcissa noted that Bella didn’t flinch when she did say it, though, and however much she never wanted to hear that word again, she was glad to see that the bond wasn’t active, wasn’t <em>hurting </em>her for saying it, trying to censor her. She remembered how often Bella used to say <em>mudblood</em>, even <em>blood-traitor </em>to people like the Weasleys and Longbottoms and… <em>oh</em>.</p><p><em>“Fucking </em>blood-traitors<em>, all those goody-goody Gryffindors, the lot of them. Prewett, Weasley, Longbottom, even Fawley. Waste of pure-blooded wizards and witches, eh, Cissy?” Bellatrix had loosely gestured her wand between the two seventh-years like herself and their so-called tag-along third years. Narcissa, a third year as well at the time, had watched Alice Fawley scamper up beside Molly Prewett as they walked the length of the northwestern courtyard, the younger witch’s eyes shining with adoration and joy.</em></p><p>
  <em>“Tell us more about Gid and Fab, Molly!” Alice asked, clasping her hands in front of her as her golden-brown hair bounced in soft waves, her wand tucked neatly behind her ear. Narcissa’s young heart quivered in her chest, something at the time she couldn’t explain as she sat on the edge of the courtyard pool with Bella. “They’re Aurors, right? Me and Frank want to be Aurors, too, when we’re grown-up!”</em>
</p><p>Narcissa shuddered at the memory, glancing over at Andy’s sleeping form. Alice… she and Frank never deserved it, what her sister and the three other Death Eaters did to them. She still wondered what else she could have <em>done</em> to convince Alice to persuade her husband to leave the country with his wife and son<em>, </em>to stay somewhere else until the entire bloody First Wizarding War blew over. She never got anywhere in time, though. Never in time, thanks to the complicity that she’d picked up from her father, the complicity she'd agreed to when marrying Lucius Malfoy, the complicity that held her back. Though she had yet to inform Bellatrix about the progression of her relationship with Hermione, she told herself that she’d never let that complicity hold her back again when she needed to bloody well <em>act</em>. She couldn’t afford to lose anyone else.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Hermione had pored over the Muggle-Born Registration Commission’s list of known Muggle-borns more than a few times now. And though she had never presented herself for it, her name was there at the top along with her parents’ real names as closest blood relatives. Every time Hermione looked at the list she swallowed around a lump in her throat, repeating every single name that was marked through. Each of them a Muggle-born, just like herself, who had died—some alongside their families—during the Second Wizarding War. Too many. Too bloody many for an already small Wizarding society when compared with how many Muggles there were. She had at least escaped with her life.</p><p>Even if she was marred with a cursed scar on the inside of her left forearm.</p><p>Even if she couldn’t fully control her bladder without aid from a potion.</p><p>Even if she had nightmares that still plagued her a few times a week.</p><p>Even if she still sometimes felt like a shell of that little girl who’d received a letter from a place called <em>Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry</em> in the summer of 1991.</p><p>At least she was alive.</p><p>A strong hand enclosed around her shoulder and she almost had her wand out until she heard a warm masculine voice apologising before Justin Finch-Fletchley’s face swam in front of her suddenly hazy vision as he took a seat across from her in the Hogwarts library. He reached out tentatively as she blinked to refocus her vision, and she let him rest his hand on hers for a moment before allowing him to take the list for himself again.</p><p>“Are we any closer to finding someone who works with genetics in the Muggle world?” she tried to lightly ask him. He looked up at her through his eyelashes and shrugged.</p><p>“We’re not getting any farther away from it, I’ll say that.”</p><p>Hermione made a small frustrated noise and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she huffed. “There’s got to be an easier way to go about this. Some charm to– oh!” She nearly leapt up from her seat, then quietly strode over to Madam Pince’s desk. The librarian peered up at her through her horn-rimmed glasses and pressed her lips into a thin line. Most students were put off by it, but Hermione knew better by now.</p><p>“Yes, Miss Granger?”</p><p>“Does Hogwarts, by any chance, have a communication line open between our library and the Library at Carnmin, Madam Pince?” She hoped so, even if it would mean that she’d wasted <em>years</em> of her time at Hogwarts when she could have been utilising such a grand resource. Another detriment of being a Muggle-born and not knowing about Carnmin until she and the boys were already on the run. Madam Pince lifted her head fully, her attention now diverted from her work. The smallest of smiles graced her face, too minuscule for most to tell, but Hermione had seen it several times before.</p><p>“As a matter of fact, Miss Granger, we do. It is not, however, typically opened except under exceptional circumstances. What are you needing it for?”</p><p>Hermione glanced over towards Justin who was watching her curiously, then turned back to Madam Pince. “Justin Finch-Fletchley and I are doing research for the BSRA regarding Muggle-born magical ancestry, and I’m looking for further resources on efficiently going through the Muggle-Born Registration Commission list to find a Muggle-born or one of their parents who works in Muggle genetics research to help us. The Ministry has already…” she paused to withdraw the relevant form signed by the Minister for Magic himself from within her school robes, “signed off on it. Here’s the form.”</p><p>Madam Pince eyed the form for a minute, then upon handing it back to Hermione beckoned for she and Justin to follow her. They were led into a hidden room that materialised with a subtle sweep of Madam Pince’s hand, and it appeared that no one else could see it besides the three of them. Nor did anyone take notice of their disappearance. Hermione forcibly bit back the several questions that had already popped up in her mind, focusing instead on a grand tome laid open to its middle in the centre of the room. A pedestal held it to a height where Hermione could immediately see that the pages it was charmed to flip through endlessly were blank.</p><p>“There is a verbal-to-written charm placed upon this messaging book,” Madam Pince began to explain. “I will open the communication channel up, introduce…” she cast a look between the two of them. Hermione saw Justin gesture to her out of the corner of her eye. “Miss Granger, then. Once we hear back from a librarian at Carnmin, ask of them what you need, and if they have it they will send it through the channel. It will appear on the desk beside the tome.”</p><p>Hermione watched in awe as Madam Pince wordlessly opened the communication channel, halting the page-turning charm in the process, and her eyes widened at the way the witch’s words appeared on the page as she spoke. She wondered if they’d ever learn such magic at Hogwarts, but some part of her knew too many people would only use it to never take notes with their own hand again, instead choosing to link a professor’s voice with their parchment to take notes for them. The Quick-Quotes quill was bad enough, though she did see usage for a better version of it among deaf or otherwise hard-of-hearing students. And perhaps it and this mystery spell <em>was </em>used by them, but cleverly hidden from other students— it was something she couldn’t help but think about.</p><p>Before she knew it, however, she was drawn out of her thoughts and nudged towards the large tome by Justin. Once in front of it, she cleared her throat before presenting her case and inquiry to a wizard who had introduced himself as Mr. Granneau. Her spoken words appeared before her on the page, right underneath Madam Pince’s, and only a few seconds passed before three books materialised on the desk beside her.</p><p><em>“It appears that you are looking for something much akin to how we here at Carnmin query our records for specific books,” </em>was written into the tome from the other end, a man’s voice accompanying.<em> “We simply have too many to do so in any other way. You will need to alter our spell somewhat, but it is do-able, Miss Granger. I’ve sent along the relevant books that should aid you in this spell’s alteration. You will have two weeks to return them or renew any of the titles through Hogwarts, but you are welcome to return them before then. Best of luck in your endeavours.”</em></p><p>Some twenty minutes later she was walking back to her quarters alongside Justin, remarking on the ingenuity of wizards and witches taking inspiration from Muggle technology and querying databases to further modify a spell that would speed up their records-searching methods by leaps and bounds almost beyond imagination. “And to think we still had another bloody war centred around hatred of Muggles, or– or misunderstanding and fear birthing hatred? Shite, I don’t know.”</p><p>“Those witch burnings did no good for anyone,” Justin uttered with a shake of his head. “Can’t change the past, though. But the future’s always open, Hermione.” His disarming smile towards her, bright and hopeful, gave her the motivation to work without break for a full fifty minutes, a new record ever since she’d started having trouble concentrating like she’d used to. She gave a moment’s thought as to the bond’s potential contribution to that problem but shrugged it off. That thing had no reason to influence her concentration, and it <em>had</em> been several months since the Cruciatus curse had been cast on her multiple times. Perhaps its longer-lasting effects were finally wearing off, barring the damage to her bladder… She had absolutely no desire to experiment with failing to take <em>that</em> potion again just to test that hypothesis. Especially not right now.</p><p>Hermione was glad for the return of some of her concentration no matter the reason, because by the end of the first hour and a half since leaving the library, as she finished a walk about the grounds of Hogwarts, she’d started to form the rudimentary parts of an altered querying spell needed to make tangible progress on their search for a suitable geneticist.</p><p>Her brain, wholly her own without the bond pressing in on her, felt more alive and <em>hers</em> than ever. Ginny happily remarked upon it as she noticed her walking back into the Gryffindor common room. She made a mental note that she’d <em>have</em> to write to Narcissa about this in her next letter. Once she got her return letter first, though. Sometimes the arrangement still grated at her, but it did show her so far that she missed Narcissa far more than she had ever missed Ron, and from Narcissa’s letters it was clear that the feeling was mutual. She thought of her, of everything she wished to tell her in-person; if she could just be there by her side, though her heart ached if she thought too much about her. Soon, though, she knew she’d hear from her again, and in time she'd <em>see</em> her again.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Was this what it was like to truly begin to fall in love? It had been so long, but… Narcissa set her quill down on the desk in Andromeda's room and skimmed over the few paragraphs she’d already written in her return missive to Hermione. The words came easily, as if Hermione were sitting in the same room, and oh how she dearly wished the younger woman was nearby. But this had been her idea in the first place and she would not bend. On top of everything she had already outright said, Hermione needed time to evaluate if this truly <em>was </em>the best idea, though from news of the Weasley daughter accepting the idea of them together… it did give her some semblance of hope despite her concerns. Yet Gryffindors, especially the younger ones, were somehow still full of idealism in spades, and she knew that Ginevra Weasley did not represent the typical witch or wizard’s opinion.</p><p>Age would never be much of an issue, thankfully. At least when it came to Wizarding society, but Hermione would certainly want to visit and show her more of the Muggle world in time. She convinced herself that they would cross that bridge if they ever even were fortunate enough to <em>get </em>to it. The more pressing issues lay in the reality of her eldest sister coming to fully know about them, and the sides of the war she and Hermione had found themselves on, the people who still tried to send hexes after her in Diagon Alley and its offshoots. However, she did have access to witches like Rowan Macmillan and Emily Abbott now through Andromeda. Due to her sister’s introductions, they had been welcoming in a way she had not experienced since Alice. Rowan was a former Gryffindor, while Emily a former Hufflepuff; perhaps that explained much.</p><p>
  <em>“Lady Black, welcome!” Rowan had graciously greeted her at Macmillan Estate. “Emily is waiting in our sitting room. Come, come, we have so much to speak about.”</em>
</p><p><em>Once seated she had quietly asked for the two witches to call her by her given name. “Though I must admit that I am more than pleased to be known as a Black again,” she had begun, “do call me Narcissa, please.” A tentative smile, a hint of vulnerability. Naturally calculative yet open. She </em>was <em>trusting them to keep to some decorum and not reveal her divorce; Andromeda had assured her of the women’s honour.</em></p><p>Unlike the stuffiness of former tea dates with witches such as the Ladies Goyle, MacNair, and Crabbe, Emily and Rowan were slightly more informal than Sophia Nott and Eleanora Zabini. In some ways they reminded her of Andromeda, but without the qualities that made her sister a Slytherin. They were refreshing to speak with, and she had later written a response to her son’s letter with a word of appreciation for the ways he had graciously endeared himself to the younger Mr. Macmillan because it had also reflected well upon herself in Rowan’s eyes.</p><p><em>‘Ever the Slytherin, you are,’ </em>she could almost hear Hermione teasing her. It never meant, though, that her friendships were not real, and even Hermione couldn’t say a word against that considering the past several months. It was only instinctual for her to look for the subtleties within relationships that others did not care or think to seek out. She knew how to read people, and it was only when they threatened her or her loved ones that she ever used what she knew to actively do damage to another. Perhaps in Bella’s eye that constituted as having a bleeding Gryffindor or Hufflepuff heart, but Narcissa did not mind.</p><p>Bleeding Gryffindor hearts were a beautiful thing, and she had somehow been granted what felt like truly the rarest of opportunities to get to know not only one, but two brilliant examples of them. The tale of one would always be left not even half-finished, but she still, perhaps, had a chance with Hermione, if she could let the optimism inside of her win out.</p><p>She returned to her letter, skimming once more over what she had already written.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Hermione,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>I do trust you. To amend an earlier statement of mine, I also do not kiss those whom I do not trust. Yes, I did completely trust Lucius at one point. I would never marry someone I do not trust, either. I said as much to my father, and he agreed. We both lacked foresight, but… Lucius was not the worst pure-blood wizard I could have married. He is, however, now in a past chapter of my life except for any interactions we must have for Draco. As for the present, confiding in Miss Weasley– I am proud of you, my darling. I do believe that it is the best course of action for your future to do such a thing with those you trust. It also reminds me that I hope you will willingly talk to me about anything in the future.</em>
  </p>
  <p><em>And of course, a Gryffindor’s word is their </em>ironclad<em> word. For you, darling, mine is the same. I am not... overly fond of this agreement, either, but we are both level-headed witches. The time will pass quickly with these letters to look forward to, though, will they not? To repeat myself for emphasis, we do both have other responsibilities to attend to in the meantime. You have the BSRA, your friends, your studies. And I must continue working on reintegrating myself into Wizarding society as an honest, upstanding Black. I </em>am<em> waiting to connect the cottage’s fireplace to the Floo Network until we meet again; I have not forgotten.</em></p>
  <p><em>I am glad that you are continuing with your Occlumency lessons. You are correct that even if you have no need to see my eldest sister again, the skill can benefit you elsewhere. It is, as you wrote, handy. With our respective notoriety, we are prime targets for unregistered Legilimens. While I have tuned you out to the best of my ability as a natural Legilimens, others will not extend the same courtesy, and some enjoy using their skill to an... excessive amount. Thankfully </em>most<em> of those are caught and sent to Azkaban but one cannot let one’s guard down.</em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>Narcissa smiled as she reread Hermione’s question regarding courting. She had been counting on her talking to either Mr. Macmillan, Mr. Finch-Fletchley, or both wizards about the bare essentials of what she had suggested they do as to not entirely lose contact. With a flourish of her magic into the quill she was using, she breathlessly laughed into writing that, <em>Yes, I merely gave you enough to begin questioning, to come to the answer yourself without my aid. This way, it was </em>your<em> decision to truly begin the process. To give </em>you<em> the choice. </em>She stilled her right hand for a moment, the emotions flowing into the ink altering from that light laughter and amusement to gratitude. <em>Thank you for choosing to still write to me</em> <em>after learning of my intentions.</em></p><p><em>Now, </em>she continued writing with purpose, <em>that you know, please understand that this does not have to lead to… any further commitment. A mere testing of waters is all there is until we meet again and speak in person. There is no rush, no set pace. There is no bonding magic. This can be broken at any point without repercussions by either person. I merely wished to hopefully express that I am not turning my back, not retreating from what occurred at the Manor. I did, truly, enjoy it. A most welcome gift after my marriage was dissolved. Even though I hurt you the next morning with this decision, of which I again am sorry for.</em></p><p>Narcissa set her quill down and rested her head in her hands. Andromeda could never see these words as they were, or else she’d <em>never </em>be able to live it down. <em>‘A bloody sodding romantic, you are</em>,’ she knew her sister would say. Tease her endlessly. Her fingertips pressed in on her skin and she rubbed at her eyes before writing the rest. She wrote of her rather lovely visit with Lady Macmillan and Abbott, tentatively described her time with Bellatrix and gave Hermione a way to ask that she <em>not </em>write about her in the future if that's what she wished. She quietly laughed again at what had happened with the Black journal and wrote that Hermione should expect nothing else from one of her ancestors.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p><em>We are, at times, quite touchy. As for my son, he is perceptive. He may be purposely denying anything he has noticed instead of coming to terms with his assumptions and asking either of us for verification. We should agree on if we will tell him should he ask. Though I would prefer to not withhold the truth from my son, I will if you would like to wait until we know for certain that this is… something we both find worth honestly pursuing, no matter the consequences. Despite your assurances that you do not mind the press, I am still wary of the repercussions for you, what it will mean, if… To summarise, I </em>was<em> the wife of a Death Eater. The sister of the witch who was Riddle’s right-hand lieutenant. I will not elaborate further because that would completely insult your intelligence. But we… I feel we must consider all angles considering my background.</em></p>
  <p>
    <em>Do know that despite these words, I am not getting cold feet. I am thinking of your future, of the relationships you have fostered these past several years. You deserve whatever place you desire in our society. I only wish to not impede in your pursuits, your desires for whatever life you seek in Wizarding Britain or elsewhere. I only wish for your safety and will do everything possible to secure it for you.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Yours,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Narcissa</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p>She had not felt so vulnerable since she had been with Alice. It gnawed at her, her worry for Hermione— not in the way she would worry if Tom Riddle were still alive, if her sister still had <em>all </em>of her biting teeth about her that could further irrevocably injure the Muggle-born witch, but something… Something still left her mind with a vague sense of disquiet. It never helped that she still held positive regard for Bellatrix because of their shared history, the… She groaned and set her quill down. Surely it was the last vestiges of the war hanging onto her, the sense of dread that had left her wrought with concealed tension and anxiety during Riddle’s reign over the manor for over a year.</p><p>A calming drought would do her well, and perhaps more time with Andromeda once she awoke. At least she had her, a sister she could steadfastly rely on now, however chaffing she could sometimes be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>no Absolute Guarantees, but the next chapter may be the entire 8k+ word gdoc unless I can find a decent place to split it in two lol.</p><p>either way, next chapter will likely go up the Thursday after next. catch y'all then!</p><p>edit 4/25: in case anyone checks this, I am still working on writing this fic, but life happens, and though I cannot guarantee when exactly the next update will be, I am shooting for around mid-May.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>